Carry On My Wayward Daughter: A Supernatural Fanfiction Collection
by cola1320
Summary: Your life is completely ordinary in the small town you grew up in until a string of supernatural murders brings two mysterious strangers into town. Instantly captivated by their sarcasm and charm, you can't help getting caught up in the middle of the case. Join Avery and the Winchesters as they save people, hunt things, and continue the family business.
1. Bewitching Strangers Chapter 1

Story 1 Chapter 1

The air was typical of a late summer night in the Delta of Arkansas, starting to become crisp but still humid with only a slight breeze to stir the occasional crop in their fields. The night was uncharacteristically bright as a fiery red-orange blazed against the black horizon. A young woman still in her nightgown barreled through the rows of cotton, running as fast as her feet could carry her. The heavy sound of her breathing filled her ears as she tried to listen for the footsteps behind her. Woody branches stung her arms and legs as they whipped past her. Suddenly a root caught her foot, yanking her face first into the soil. As she coughed up dirt, she tried frantically to orient herself. She stood, clutching her arms to her chest, turning slowly in a circle as tears mixed with the dirt on her face. A breeze startled the cotton, making it rustle menacingly. She choked down a sob, clamping hands over her mouth. To her right came the rustle again; then from her left, and from behind. An unnoticed shadow peaked through the plants and reached long tendrils towards the woman. Only the endless acres of crops heard her screams.

There was cotton, corn, and soybeans as far as the eye could see and that was how I liked it. At least that's what I told myself anyways. When you're raised on a farm in a small town where everyone knows your name, it's hard to imagine little else. The community survived on the crops we raised and good old fashioned southern hospitality. The sun was warm on my face as I rode shot gun in the old beat up truck my brother owned, making its way into town. Old dirt roads turned into faded concrete as we neared the city limits. People looked up from their porches and storefronts to wave at us both, sipping sweat tea and iced lemonade. Downtown consisted of the courthouse, police station, JJ's restaurant, the local bar, general store, and a handful of mom and pop shops. The buildings were old and dust covered, their once bright paint faded many years ago. Over a quarter of the shops had permanent for sale and closed signs listed in the cracked windows. The town hadn't grown in decades but that didn't mean it wasn't surviving. Everyone was willing to lend a hand to someone in need and come harvest time all outstanding debts were paid. Yeah, I liked it in my small little backwards town; but I was allowed to yearn for adventure elsewhere.

My daydreaming was cut short as the truck stopped in front of the diner. I hopped out and waved goodbye to my brother as he headed back to the house to help my father with the chores. JJ's was already busy with its lunch rush as I walked through the doors and into the kitchen. The staff took a moment to holler a "good morning" my way as I tied on my waitressing smock and began waiting tables. Being home from college meant I had to pick up my old job at the local restaurant to put a little extra cash in my pocket. It was tiring work for measly pay, but it sure beat working in the hot sun all day.

And if I was honest with myself, I enjoyed the people. The old men from the local church had breakfast and coffee every Tuesday morning, always tipping me extra because of what a beautiful young lady I had grown into. Ladies Auxiliary met twice a week for lunch to run the church and gossip about the latest news, usually centered around who was getting married and having babies next. I made sure to avoid the butt of their jokes. Poor Gilligan McCoy, whose tractors and equipment had been destroyed during the last tornado, sat in the same corner booth every day sipping his coffee while searching the newspaper for something better. I made sure to give him an extra big smile as I refilled his cup, free of charge.

I had two plates full of food for the newlywed Green's in my hands as the bell on the door jangled, alerting me to new customers. "Be with you in a second," I hollered over my shoulder, expecting it to be a new wave of farmhands on a late lunch break. I was shocked to see two young tall men dressed in suits making their way to the counter. The older of the two had short cut dirty blonde hair that stood up a little in the front and a slight dusting of freckles across his cheekbones. The other was taller by almost four inches with a dark mop top hanging to his eyes, his puppy dog face making him look not much older than me.

"What'll it be, gentlemen?" I barely managed as emerald green eyes met mine. I had never seen such brilliant eyes before and combined with his freckles, he was one of the most handsome men I had ever seen; the other man wasn't half bad to look at either. My loss of breath over his features must have been audible because he smiled a little before answering, revealing perfect white teeth and dimples.

"We're a bit new here in town. What would you recommend?" His voice was deep with an alluring tone, threatening to draw me in and make my knees go weak. He batted his eyelashes ever so slightly, causing me to gawk even more.

I shook my head to clear it, still mesmerized by the candy apple color of his eyes. "Today's special is chicken fried steak with gravy, but I'd recommend the burgers. Fresh beef from right here in town; there's nothing better. And today we've also got Grandma's Famous Chocolate Pie, my personal favorite thing on the menu." I smiled my friendliest smile hoping I had at least semi convinced them.

"Sounds delicious. We'll take two of each," freckles quickly said. The younger one looked like he wanted to interject, but a quick jab in the side made him smile stiffly at me. "I'm Dean and this is Sam." He smiled charmingly, offsetting his handsome features further.

"Nice to meet you, Dean. And Sam," I recovered with a slight nod, "I'm Avery. Y'all sit tight and I'll have those out in a jiff!" I hurried to give their order to the kitchen and returned to give them glasses of water. As I poured, I tried to find out more about the handsome new strangers. "So, what brings you boys to town?" I questioned, trying to sound nonchalant.

"We're with the FBI, investing the recent murders." Both pulled out badges and put them away just as quickly. They didn't look like FBI agents to me, but what did I know?

"FBI? All the way out here?"

"Well, we like to be thorough," Dean said with a slight grin.

"What can you tell us about the recent murders?" It was the first time I had heard Sam speak; he sounded more like a sweet innocent school boy than an FBI agent.

"I don't know if I'd call them murders, per se," I said slowly, a tad uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going.

"So, what would you call them then?" Dean asked gently.

I looked around to make sure the other waitresses didn't need help and then leaned on the counter in front of them. "Stacy went missing first, right? Well, she had an abusive boyfriend and a few dirty habits if you know what I mean. So, no one really batted an eye when she disappeared and then washed up by the river on the McCoy place a few days later. Not to mention that he skipped town and hasn't been seen since. Then you had old man Johnson, his wife, and the granddaughter they had raised. The house caught on fire which could have been caused by her leaving the stove on or something. They were both old and forgetful. Plus, kids like to mess around in their fields; it was probably an accident. And-" I was interrupted by the cook yelling at me from the kitchen to come get the food. "One moment, guys," I apologized, running to grab it. "There, two burgers and two slices of pie. Enjoy." I smiled bright as I set the food down.

Dean took a bite of pie first, closing his eyes and sighing happily as soon as it touched his lips. "Damn, that is good pie," he mumbled between another bite.

Sam just shook his head with a chuckle. "So, you were saying?"

"Oh, yeah! The other night the Dane's place goes up in flames too and when they were sifting through the rumble they couldn't find the oldest girl. They thought she might have made it out of the house in time, but she hasn't been found either. That's the only one that sounded suspicious to me." I shrugged, not sure what else to should say.

"Is there any reason someone would wanna hurt them? Did they have any enemies?" Sam was leaned forward, seemingly very interested.

"I mean, I don't think so. This is tight knit community; we're all family here. Old man Johnson owned half the money in this town, but he wasn't a crook or nothing like that. The Dane's were good people too. They owned the tractor supply store down the road."

"And there's nothing else you can think of?" Sam pressed.

"Nope," I said, shaking my head. The late farmhands I had been waiting on decided to walk through the door at that moment, filling up half the place. "Joy, the second lunch rush," I groaned, leaning up from the counter.

"Let us know if you think of anything," Dean smiled, handing me a business card with only a phone number on it.

"Sure thing," I said, taking the card and putting it in my back pocket. "Enjoy the burgers and pie!" I hollered, already walking towards the new customers. I wasn't able to make my way back over to them before they left, but I would occasionally glance at them out of the corner of my eye as I took orders. They ate quickly, talking between bites while leaning in close to each other so as not to be overheard. They got up to leave after paying the bill and I couldn't help but long after them. Those green eyes were so captivating, full of pain and remorse but capable of love and happiness. I wanted to know anything and everything about him.

"Hey, Avery, the Sherriff's take out order is ready to go." The voice pulled me out of my thoughts, causing me to shake my head. The waitress was holding out the bags to me, waiting.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be back soon!" I took the food, left my apron at the door, walked out and immediately began searching for the boys. They had left at least five minutes before me and could have been anywhere by now. I sighed, a little surprised at how disappointed I was. What did I think was going to happen? This was real life, not a movie.

 _Oh well_ , I thought as I casually strolled across the street and walked down the sidewalk a little way to the small police station. As I opened the door, I caught a few words from a conversation inside.

"Little five-foot-three spitfire, brunette, blue eyes? Ah, well speak of the devil!" I heard Dan exclaim as I entered the lobby.

"What are you saying about me… this time…" I trailed off, seeing who he was talking to. There stood Dean and Sam, both smiling. Maybe I was imagining that Dean looked thrilled to see me again.

"Nothing but the truth, baby sister," my oldest brother teased. "These fellas were telling me about what great service they received at JJ's and I just couldn't believe they were talking about you." His grin said that he was rather pleased with himself as my cheeks flushed red.

"Gave us some damn good pie," Dean chimed in, shooting me a tiny wink that I also missed.

"What'd they send over today, Avery?" Dan asked as I walked over to hand him the bags I was holding.

I felt tiny standing next to Dean and even smaller looking up at Sam. They both nicely stepped out of my way so that I could reach the counter. "Chicken fried steak. It was the special," I shrugged at Dan's disappointed face. "I just serve the food. I don't make it."

"Yeah, I guess that's true. You need a ride home tonight? Cause I'm supposed to be on duty all night long."

"Um, not sure yet. It's girl's night out tonight, so one of them might give me a lift. I'll figure it out," I promised with a broad grin.

"Alright then," Dan said, ruffling my hair affectionately. "Go on, get. I've gotta at least pretend I'm a deputy around here," he joked with a smile.

"Nice to see you again," I said sheepishly, waving goodbye to Dean and Sam.

"Hopefully we'll see each other again," Dean called after me, teeth showing as he smiled broadly.

The rest of my shift at JJ's was uneventful. Once the restaurant had closed for the night, I went to the bathroom to check my hair and makeup. I shook out my ponytail, letting my dark curls hang loose. My makeup looked fresh enough so I headed down to the Waterin' Hole to meet my friends. I was the last to arrive, causing them all to squeal while wrapping a pink boa around my neck. I laughed, ready to have a good night with them.

The jukebox started playing Renegade by Styx and I was pulled onto the dance floor before I could tell them no. As the beat dropped, I let loose, loving the sound of my boots hitting the wood dance floor. I spun around, boa flung out behind me, when I thought I caught emerald green eyes watching me from the bar. I stopped and saw Dean staring at me, a whiskey glass barely touching his lips. His mouth upturned when he knew he had caught my eye and I couldn't help but walk towards him.

"Fancy meeting you here," he grinned as I took the empty seat next to him. "Sorry to pull you away from your friends," he apologized, leaning on the bar to look at me.

"You probably saved me actually. Nothing good ever comes of bachelorette parties," I laughed.

His mouth turned into a hard line. "So, are you the lucky bride to be?"

"Oh, good Lord, no!" I yelled a little too vehemently, hand pressed to my chest. "She is." I pointed to a blonde in a tight dress and pink sash acting like a fool on the dance floor.

He smiled again, chuckling at my response. "Well, I should have known then. Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, green eyes capturing mine. I nodded, my tongue all tied in knots. "What'll it be?"

I whistled at the bartender, smiling when he turned around. "Two of whatever he's having," I shouted to be heard. I received a thumbs up and sat back down on the stool. He brought our drinks over almost immediately. I took a big sip of the whiskey, feeling like I needed some liquid courage.

"I almost didn't recognize you without your suit on," I joked, admiring how nice he looked in casual clothes; worn jeans, work boots, a plain t-shirt with a plaid button down and leather jacket thrown on top.

"I figured I should try and fit in with the locals," he teased back, his grin growing wider.

"You pull it off nicely," I said sincerely. I tipped back the rest of my drink when I realized what I had said, hoping he didn't read into it.

"You can hold your liquor," Dean noted, obviously impressed.

"You ain't seen nothing yet," I said, leaning in some.

"Is that a challenge?" One of his eyebrows raised slightly, making my knees go weak.

"Only if you're buying," I caught myself flirting back.

"Deal." His green eyes sparkled as he ordered shots for us and I wondered what had come over me.

Several hours and rounds of shots later, I stumbled outside, barely holding on to the wall for support. "Oh, God," I groaned, clutching my churning stomach as I doubled over. Dean came out the door right behind me, clearly worried.

"Hey, take it easy, Avery," he said comfortingly, helping me upright. "I don't do vomit so no throwing up, okay?" I groaned, my head spinning faster than a ride at the state fair. "You look terrible," he commented, pulling my arm around his neck.

"I'm fine," I slurred. I went to take a step, but the pavement slid out from underneath me.

"Yeah, okay," he said sarcastically. "Let's get you somewhere you can sleep this off." His arm went behind my knees, effectively sweeping me off my feet, and carried me toward a black old school Impala. He laid me down gently in the back seat, telling me to stay awake until we got there. The words jumbled in my head and I was sure we were driving, though I didn't know where.

When the car stopped, I was barely conscious. I could hear Dean's voice as he picked me up out of the car and carried me into a room. Someone else was there and they sounded angry. They argued as Dean laid me down again, until the other seemed to give up. Dean gently tugged off my boots and pulled a blanket over me. I finally lost consciousness as he gently pushed my hair back from my face and turned out the lights.


	2. Bewitching Strangers Chapter 2

Bright sunlight hitting my face woke me up. I fluttered my eyelids, trying to adjust to the light. "I feel like I've been kicked by a horse," I muttered to myself, running my hands over my face.

"Well, that's what happens when you do ten rounds with Jose Cuervo," a deep voice commented beside me. I screeched, thinking I was alone in my bed at home. I sat up, too fast, my head feeling as if it was about to split open. "Take it easy," Dean said as he caught me before I fell against the headboard. The light reflected off his eyes, making them even more dazzling. "Here, drink this," he instructed, handing me a glass of water before I could say anything.

"Thank you," I said shyly, taking a small sip. He gestured at me to continue, so I took a few more gulps to appease him. "Where are we?" I asked, finally looking around the room. "It looks like a shitty motel room," I said before I could stop myself. It was slightly dank, smelling of sweaty sex, and the ratty bedsheets looked like they needed a good washing. Someone barked out a laugh from the table by the door and I saw Sam grinning with a laptop in front of him.

"Cause it is a shitty hotel room," Dean admitted, looking somewhat insulted.

"Cedarwood Motel? Just outside of town?"

"Yeah, but how-" Sam started, both looking at me incredulously.

"It's a small town, guys," I shrugged. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, making sure to avoid hitting Dean who was seated on the far end. "I guess you won last night, huh," I said to him, trying to fight through the fog that was last night.

"Well, I walked out of a bar with a pretty girl and brought her home, so I would say so." I was insulted until I saw the grin on his face and realized he was teasing. I was about to give a snarky retort when his phone rang. A rock and roll song that I couldn't quite place my finger on played as he dug through his pockets. "Hello? Yeah. Yeah. Alright, got it. Thanks."

"Who was that?" Sam asked, already closing his laptop to look over at Dean.

"Sherriff. They've got another body." Both boys were on their feet in seconds, grabbing jackets and duffle bags. I pulled my boots on quickly and made my way to the door. Sam reached the handle a second before I did, opening it for me.

"Thanks," I beamed, smiling warmly.

"Don't mention it," he mumbled, looking down quickly to hide the slight blush creeping into his cheeks.

The sun outside didn't mix well with my hangover, making me wish for my sunglasses. I frowned, looking up, hoping for some cloud coverage; unfortunately, it was a clear fall day. It was going to be long walk back to town. By then the boys were loading their stuff into the Impala and getting ready to climb in. I smiled at them and began my long trek into town until a voice stopped me.

"Avery," Dean called after me, jogging over to where I was. "What are you doing?"

"Well, y'all've got a crime scene to get to and I need to be heading back, so I figured this is where we part ways." His head blocked the sun slightly, creating a false halo and causing me to shield my eyes with my hand.

"Come on," he said simply, jerking his head, already turning towards the Impala. I followed without hesitation, climbing into the back seat. A ride to town has a heck of a lot better than walking the three-mile hike in boots. Dean shut the door behind me, got into the driver's seat, and started up the engine. I was astounded at how in tune the engine was, making a soft rumbling purr that crept up my legs. A car this age could have easily sounded like it was trying to tear itself apart from the inside out.

"Nice car," I commented as we pulled out of the motel parking lot. Neither boy responded, but I saw Dean's eyes smiling in the rearview mirror. Sam was too busy rummaging around in the duffle bag at his feet to hear. He finally pulled out a pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses.

"Here," he said, handing them to me. "For the hangover," he added a little more quietly, looking away when I smiled at him.

"Thanks, Sam," I said sweetly, honestly touched that he would have thought of such a thing. They were big on my face, but sweet relief from the bright fall sun. It wasn't a long drive back into town and I was able to give them directions to the McCoy farm where the body was. Three police cars had beat us there, lights flashing, and they had already placed tape around the perimeter. I shook my hair out quickly as we got out of the Impala, hoping it didn't look as bad as I was sure it did. We were walking towards the sheriff when I saw Dan standing beside him. I groaned loudly at the dark scowl on his face when he saw who I had arrived with. He marched over, grabbed my arm, and pulled me roughly to the side.

"What're you doing here?" he growled, trying not to be overheard.

"Let go of me, Dan," I said stiffly, my temper flaring and my growing headache not helping the situation.

"Is there a problem, Deputy?" Dean asked, his arms folded. He and Sam both were standing behind us, concerned looks on their faces.

I saw the vein in Dan's head begin pulsing as he spun on Dean. "Yeah! Who do you think you are, coming into our town, taking advantage of our hospitality, and making off with my baby sister, huh?" He was roaring by the end of it, drawing the attention of everyone present. My brother and Dean were almost nose-to-nose, neither looking to back down.

"Dan, stop it!" I yelled, stepping in front of him and pushing against his chest with all my might. He teetered back a step as I pushed him again. "Get this into your thick head! I was drunk last night, and he was nice enough not to leave me passed out on the floor! So back off and cool it!" I shoved him again for good measure.

"I'd listen to her if I were you," Dean smirked, a hunger to fight still lingering in his eyes.

"Dean," Sam pleaded quietly, trying to keep him from doing something stupid.

Dan gritted his teeth, balling his fists at his side. Finally, he let out a small breath through his nose. "Agents, you can go see the sheriff," he spat vilely. "And you," he said, turning on me, "you go sit your butt down on my cruiser and don't move. I'm taking you back with me once this is all taken care of." He pointed me to his car, anger still rolling off him in waves. I scowled back at him, but knew there was nothing else I could do.

The boys were already talking to the sheriff and heading to investigate the body. They had her covered with a sheet, but I could see where blood was beginning to soak through it. _Poor girl_ , I thought; she was only a few years younger than me. What if this had happened to me? I glanced over at Dan, who was still giving Dean a scowl as they examined the area, wondering if all he could think of was me when he saw the Dane girl. There was no telling how long I would have to wait, so I stretched out on the hood of Dan's car, planning to take a nap.

I didn't know how long I had been asleep, but my headache had faded and someone was shouting at me.

"Hey, Daisy Duke, time to go!" Dan was yelling as he walked towards the cruiser.

"Screw you, Dan," I mumbled as I sat up slowly, sunglasses falling off my face.

Sam was walking back to the Impala and heard my snarky comment. "Your brother is a real-"

"Prick?" I suggested sourly, sliding down the hood.

Sam laughed, obviously surprised. "I was gonna say piece of work, but that works too."

"Oh well," I shrugged, handing him back his glasses. "Isn't that what older brothers are for?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," he said, looking back at Dean who was wrapping up with the sheriff.

"Avery, now!" my brother called, already half-way into the car.

"Coming," I huffed. Sam walked away with a small half wave in my direction that I returned. As Dan pulled the cruiser out, I caught Dean's green eyes as he stood beside the Impala. They sparkled in the fading sunlight and I almost thought I saw him wink at me.

Dan hardly spoke as we drove, full darkness having descended by the time we finally reached home. I slammed the car door with all my might, more perturbed at his attitude than anything else. He cursed as I walked up the steps and inside the house where my mother was starting on dinner. I strolled into the kitchen, immediately heading for the refrigerator.

"You didn't come home last night," my mother chided as I dug through the drawers, looking for a snack. Her back was to me as she chopped vegetables near the sink, not bothering to turn around.

"Momma, I'm twenty-three years old. I think I'm allowed to stay out all night." I didn't mean to sass her, but I couldn't let go of my frustration at Dan just yet. I shut the fridge heavily, settling on an apple.

"Did you at least have fun?" she huffed, not pleased with my attitude.

"Uh-huh," I responded, biting my lip a little as I thought of Dean gazing over his glass at me last night. My mother was staring directly at me, her eyebrow raised. My eyes widened in embarrassment as she caught me daydreaming.

"You met a boy last night," she said, wooden spoon pointed at my face. I hurriedly bit into the apple in my hand, trying to avoid meeting her gaze. I couldn't lie to her and she would know either way. "Please tell me you were safe." She turned back to the stove, shaking her head at me.

"Mom," I moaned dramatically, "it wasn't like that."

"If you say so, dear," she said flippantly over her shoulder. I started to protest, not wanting her to think I'd had a one-night stand, but she shushed me. "I don't want to hear it. Now start browning that meat. The boys will be in before too long, ready for supper." I grumbled under my breath but did what she said regardless.

Dinner was relatively quiet as my family sat around our dining table. My father griped that I hadn't helped with chores and it was therefore my fault that our milk cow had nearly ruptured an udder. Dan, of course, continued to glare daggers at me as he angrily ate. He must have told my other brother because I noticed that he was giving me sideways glances as well. There was a lull in conversation as my mother began clearing the dishes from the table and Dan seized the opportunity.

"So, Pop, d'you hear about Avery's new boyfriend?" He gave me a devilish grin as he spoke to which I responded with a swift kick to his shin. The fierce expression on my face told him to be quiet, but he only returned the look.

"I heard it was two," my other brother snickered as he took a drink.

"Jacob!" I hissed violently, driving the toe of my boot into his shin as well. He cursed, loudly, and began yelling at me which I returned, causing Dan to join in as well.

"Stop it!" My father silenced the three of us with a firm slap on the table, the dishes rattling lightly. "What is this about?" he demanded, gaze fixed on me.

"I caught her cozying up to those two new FBI agents in town," Dan responded for me, all too eager to share. "Even showed up to the crime scene with them this afternoon."

"It wasn't like that!" I swore, trying to cut of Dan before he could say anymore.

"And I don't want to hear it!" my father bellowed over both of us as we squabbled. I could feel angry tears beginning to prick my eyes that I tried to will away.

"Avery, come help me with the rest of the dishes," my mother calmly called from kitchen, no doubt trying to diffuse the situation before it got any worse. I thankfully took the out she was offering me, running to the kitchen while wiping furiously at my eyes.

"It wasn't like that, I swear," I complained to her after I was out of earshot.

"Then what was it like, dear?"

"It was innocent," I said, knowing that nothing had happened, nor had I intended for it to. "And stupid," I laughed, thinking of how drunk I had been. "And a little romantic," I added, the way Dean had swooped me up in his arms. "They're just so infuriating," I fumed, referring to my two idiot brothers.

My mother laughed at my frustration which made me scowl. "They're you're brothers, baby. It's their job to be irritating. It's how they show that they care." She smiled softly, the expression letting me know that she was on my side. "Now take that pie in there and I'll have a talk with them later."

"Thanks, momma," I mumbled as I took the plate from her hands.

"You're welcome, baby." She kissed my lightly on the cheek and pushed me towards the dining room.

She was true to her word, and no one made any mention of the previous conversation the rest of the night. I read a book in the family room while the others watched TV. One by one they all retired for the evening, saying goodnight as they went. I trailed up the stairs to my own room only a few minutes after Jacob did the same. I happily shrugged out of the clothes I had worn for the past two days and donned a tank top with matching sleep shorts. I crawled into bed, my side lamp still on, intent on finishing the last one hundred pages of my book before I went to sleep.


	3. Bewitching Strangers Chapter 3

I woke up suddenly having trouble breathing and coughing. I jumped out of bed, realizing there was dark smoke hanging in the air. I pulled the neckline of my shirt up over my mouth trying to limit the amount of smoke I inhaled and made my way to the door. From my room on the second story, I could see the red-orange color of fire consuming the downstairs. I ran to Dan's room right next to mine, screaming his name, but as I reached for it, the door closed and locked itself. I pounded on it, then sprinted to my other brother's room. It too closed and locked me out. Tears were pouring down my face as the smoke stung my eyes. I ran lastly to my parent's room, near the top of the stairs, but their door was locked too.

"Momma! Daddy!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, beating at the door with my fists. I sank down to the floor, lightheaded from the smoke, watching the fire start crawling towards the first step. "I… have… to get… up," I told myself, pushing off the floor, coughing violently. I ran as fast as I dared down the stairs heading straight for the front door; but the flames roared up, consuming it. A wall of fire materialized, pushing me towards the kitchen and out the side door. A flood of smoke followed me as I burst through it, tripping down the porch steps. Dirt filled my mouth and I sat on my hands and knees trying to catch a full breath without coughing.

I looked back at my childhood home through teary eyes as it went up in flames. A figure dressed in black stood on the porch by the door I had just come through. For a second, I was hopeful it was part of my family; but something seemed off, wrong, as it waltzed down the porch steps. I scrambled on the dirt, trying to get my legs underneath me. The rocks buried in the soil tore at my bare feet as I fled into the corn field. I knew the field by heart but in my panic, I couldn't think of where to go. So, I ran as fast and hard as I could make myself, still coughing up smoke every few steps.

My foot caught on a root, pulling me down into the dirt. All the breath in my lungs was knocked out of me, leaving me gasping for air on ground. I tried to take a deep breath to force air into my chest, but it left me coughing instead. I stood on shaky legs, attempting to listen over the sound of my ragged breathing. The corn rustled all around me and I couldn't tell if it was from the wind or not. My heart pounded, waiting for something, anything, as the noise got louder. Tears blurred my vision as they came down in waves, streaking my face. A figure came hurtling out of the corn stalks to my right, grabbing my wrist as I tried to run.

"Avery!" the deep voice boomed, grabbing my attention.

"Dean?" There he stood, plaid shirt and leather jacket, with Sam only a few seconds behind him. I broke down, unable to control myself at the sight of familiar faces.

"Shhh," Dean whispered as he pulled me tightly against his chest. He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders, holding me as I sobbed uncontrollably. He gently ran a hand over my hair, trying to calm me any way he could. "Did you find anything?" he asked Sam, his strong arms still holding me.

"No. I lost it not far into the field. We probably spooked it."

"It won't stay spooked long," he said, head swiveling, trying to see through the corn. "We need to get her outta here before it comes back."

"I'll call the sheriff. That should buy us some time."

"Yeah, go on, Sammy. We'll be right behind you." Dean put his hands on either side of my face and titled it upward, so I had to meet his eyes. "Whatever you saw tonight, whatever you think you saw, you don't speak a word of it. You understand?" I nodded, sniffling, scared by the fierceness in his hard, green eyes. "Good." He used a thumb to wipe a few tears off my face before wrapping an arm around my shoulder. Together we walked through the corn, back towards my burning home.

After a few minutes, the corn broke and we stepped onto the dirt driveway. I could hear the police sirens on their way as we walked to the Impala. Dean had me sit in the passenger seat with my back to the house, so I couldn't see the flames. A firetruck came barreling down the road after what seemed like an eternity, immediately trying to put out the fire. The sheriff was next to arrive, along with half the police department. After a few questions, he decided it would be better if I was moved to the station, to get away from the scene. The boys followed behind us in the Impala, insisting they could sort through the rubble in the morning.

The sheriff was nothing but cordial, but I hardly noticed in my numb state. I felt like I only heard a third of his questions while repeating the same thing. "I woke up coughing. I ran outside. Someone chased me into the cornfield. I didn't see who. The agents found me. I woke up coughing. I ran outside." Over and over I said it, wishing that was what had really happened; hoping the more I said it, the truer it would be. Eventually, the sheriff gave up, patted me on the shoulder, and said I was free to go. He would call if he had any other questions; there was nothing else he could do. I had no next of kin and I was old enough to take care of myself.

Dean and Sam offered to watch after me and escorted me outside. A friend was there waiting, who handed me clothes and shoes, telling me how sorry she was. I didn't see her face as I took the things and climbed into the backseat of the Impala. No one said a word as Dean drove us to the motel, but I could see concerned eyes watching me through the rearview mirror.

I didn't even notice when we arrived until Dean stuck his head into the backseat, gently pulling me out. My knees buckled as I tried to step out and he scooped me up without hesitation. Sam locked the door behind us once we crossed the threshold and shut the blinds. When Dean set me softly on the bed, I pulled my knees to my chin and laid my head on them.

"Avery," he said gently, "tell us what happened."

"I woke up coughing. I ran outside," I started, staring off into space.

"No, Avery, what really happened."

"Someone chased me into the cornfield. I didn't see who," I continued, my voice starting to crack.

"Dean, she's in shock," Sam insisted. "It can wait."

"No, it can't. She needs to tell it while it's still fresh."

"I woke up coughing. I ran outside. Someone-"

"Yeah, someone chased you. Who?" Dean was clearly getting frustrated. "Who, god damnit?" he yelled.

"Dean!" Sam roared, snapping me out of my daze.

"Where am I?" I mumbled, blinking back the haze in my mind. "What happened?" Images began flashing through my head until I saw Dean standing in a cornfield, then sitting on the bed in front of me. "Oh, oh no." I started shaking my head, hands going to my mouth. "They're… they're all gone," I sobbed.

"Come here, kiddo," Dean said in a hoarse voice, pulling me against him again. Sam's eyes were filled with sadness and sympathy as he watched me cry. After a few moments, I pushed away from Dean and wiped my eyes.

"Why were you there? What were you two doing there?" I asked, questions starting to run through my head.

"Tell us what you saw and we'll answer all your questions. Promise," he added when I gave him an incredulous look.

"You're gonna think I'm crazy," I said, dropping my eyes.

"Try us," he said with a grim smile. Something in his emerald eyes made me believe him.

"Alright, well, here goes nothing. I woke up choking on smoke. So, I went into the hall and tried to wake my family up. But every time I went to the door, it shut on its own and I heard it lock." I stopped, waiting for them to laugh or mock me. They just stared instead, wanting me to continue. "I didn't have any choice but to go downstairs and try to get out. I was gonna run out the front door and this wall of fire came out of nowhere. It covered the door and the rest of the downstairs, so I had to go out the side door. I tripped down the porch stairs and when I got up, there was someone standing there. They chased me into the cornfield and then you guys showed up."

"It's witches," Dean said, turning to Sam, arm outstretched. "Pay up, Sammy." Sam's mouth formed a hard line, obviously not impressed with his timing. "Come on. A deal's a deal," he insisted as Sam slapped fifty dollars into his hand. Dean thumbed through the bills before shoving them into his pocket. He turned back to me, smiling jovially.

"Witches?" I said, not believing it for a second. "Witches? Really? I'm nearly murdered and that's what you've come up with? You two are crazy," I insisted. They both looked at me, not seeming concerned that I thought they were mad men. "Then again I'm the one who saw doors magically shut." I threw my arms up, giving into the madness.

"Who's crazy now?" Dean smirked. I scowled back at him, not appreciating his attempted humor. "Sweetheart, the world just got a whole lot crazier," he confessed, shaking his head a little.

"Y'all aren't really FBI, are you?"

"No, we're hunters," Sam answered.

"Hunters? What do you hunt?"

"Ghosts, ghouls, vampires, werewolves, you name it. If it ain't natural, we gank it," Dean said proudly. "Sam and Dean Winchester at your service," he added smiling.

"So, you're brothers. Thank goodness something actually makes sense around here," I sighed. "What is that, your slogan?" I scoffed at the cheesy line he had said.

"More like saving people, hunting things," Sam admitted.

"The family business? That's not much better," I laughed lightly, which almost turned into a sob. "Well, thank you both for kinda saving my life tonight," I said, standing awkwardly, "I appreciate it," and handing Dean his jacket back.

"What? Are you leaving?" Sam asked, confused.

"Oh, Lord no. I'm going to take a shower in that nasty motel bathroom and use all the hot water. And when I come out, we're gonna revisit this witch thing." I gave them both a strained smile as I opened the door and closed it behind me.

"I like her," I heard Dean say cheerfully as I turned the water on. "She's got spirit." It sounded like Sam snorted in response.

I stripped all my clothes off, thankful to get rid of the sticky material. My face was covered in soot and dirt that had been smudged by tears, my hair still looking like bedhead. I stepped into the shower, instantly succumbing to the hot water. I let it gently rinse the dirt off my skin as I tried to push the night's events from my mind. But the more I started to scrub at the stuck-on dirt, the more it came flooding back until I was balled up in the bottom of the tub, sobbing.

So, I let myself cry for my lost family; for my brothers who had ever only protected me and for my parents who had tried so hard to give me every advantage in life they could. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore, and the water started to become tepid. As I wiped away the last tear, I vowed to myself that I would find the son of a bitch who had done this. Standing, I quickly rinsed out my hair and shut the water off.

Steam seeped out of the bathroom as I stepped out in a light grey V-neck and jeans, toweling off my soaking wet hair. Sam was busy pressing keys on his laptop while Dean field stripped one of the nicest pistols I had ever seen.

"You good?" he asked, glancing up briefly as he snapped the barrel back in place. I thought I saw him do a double take, but I couldn't be sure

"Yeah, I think so," I answered, a steel gaze fixing in my eyes. "Tell me about witches," I said, taking a seat across from Sam.

"Witches are normal people, like you and me," he started, after giving his brother a questioning look.

"Except they sold their soul to a demon for a little hocus pocus and they tend to have a real attitude problem," Dean butted in. "Not to mention they enjoy spraying bodily fluids around." He shuddered, a disgusted look on his face.

"Okay?" I said, eyebrow raised. "Demons are real now too. And I assume witches aren't green with long noses?"

"No warts," Sam confirmed.

"Alright, so who's playing Bette Midler then?"

"We don't know," Dean said, taking a deep breath.

"Well, how are we supposed to find them then?" I asked, a little confused.

"Still working on it," Sam grimaced.

"Awesome," I huffed, rolling my eyes. "Then how can I help?"

"By getting your little butt in that bed and letting us handle it," Dean said without hesitating, looking down the sights of his pistol.

"I don't think so," I balked.

"Avery," Sam said softly from across the table, "you're still running on adrenaline and you're going to crash eventually. Go get some sleep and we'll let you know when we find something." I looked between the two of them, wanting nothing more than to help. Dean met my eyes and nodded, agreeing with his brother.

"Fine," I conceded. "But the second you find something," I threatened them, finger pointed as menacingly as I could manage. Sam raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin on his face while Dean started cleaning the twin to the pistol he had been working on earlier. I climbed into the bed on the far side of the room and pulled the covers up to my neck, my back to the boys. I didn't feel tired, but I drifted off to sleep almost instantly as my head touched the pillow. The sweet scent of whoever's bed I was in filled my nose, comforting and relaxing. I fell asleep to the faint clacking of keys and soft rock music playing in the background.

A soft touch startled me awake. I groaned, rolling on my side while pushing my mess of curls out of my face. Sam was perched on the edge of the bed, a small grin on his face.

"What? What is it?" I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He was about to say something when Dean barged through the door.

"Good morning, sunshine," he belted with a broad smile when he saw that I was awake. I sarcastically smiled back, not enjoying his wakeup call. "Hey, I come bearing gifts," he added, holding up paper bags with JJ's written on them.

"Wait, what time is it?" I scrambled out of the bed, nearly knocking Sam over, and grabbed the clock sitting on the bedside table. The red numbers blinked that it was a little past noon. "You promised," I whined, turning on Sam and giving him a dejected look.

"We haven't really found much," Sam mumbled, looking away ashamed.

"Yeah, you're welcome, Sleeping Beauty," Dean said around a mouthful of food. He tossed me a foil wrapped burger right as I reached for a pillow to throw at him. He gave me a cheeky smile as I glared back. I took a deep breath and pushed my anger aside as I roughly pulled a chair out from underneath his legs, giving him a sneer when he snorted at me.

"Play nice you two," Sam chuckled, grabbing a burger and joining us at the table.

"Oh, uh, that cute blonde at the diner said they're covering your shifts until you can come back," Dean said, popping a fry into his mouth.

"How nice of them." I rolled my eyes, not even wanting to think of the grease bucket I worked at. "Alright, well, catch me up since you decided not to last night."

"We've gone over the case files dozens of times," Sam said, pulling out his laptop. "Nothing connects the victims except that they're all young women in their early twenties. And only the last three have involved house fires." He looked at me over the top of his laptop. "Is there anything else you can tell us about the case or the girls?" he pleaded.

"I mean, I don't know what to tell you. I knew all of them. We went to the same high school and I graduated with Stacy. Nothing stands out to me that ties them all together, but I could probably answer any question you have."

Dean stood and began pacing around the room, still munching on fries. "So, what do we know? The first girl was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time; gave it its first taste of blood. It goes looking for another girl and smokes everyone in the house this time. Third victim, it again sends the whole house up in flames and keeps the girl for a few days. And then there's you," he finished, turning to look at me.

"Something seems off to me," I thought out loud.

"Like what?" Sam asked.

"Well, why did it burn the Johnson girl? It wanted fresh flesh every time but that one." Something did seem off about that fact; I just couldn't place my finger on it.

"It might have been an accident?" Sam suggested.

"No, she's right," Dean said. "The first girl was the accident. Anything after that was meticulously planned. Not to mention the body was found still in bed."

"It's not after the girls themselves. It's after something about them," I reasoned.

"Blood," Dean and Sam said simultaneously.

"Blood is used in tons of spells. We just need to figure out which one," Sam explained, already typing away. "Hey, check this out," he said after a few moments. "There's an abrogation spell that requires the blood of virgins; most commonly using young post-adolescent females," he finished with a grim frown.

"Always with the virgins," Dean muttered, disgusted.

"Virgins?" I said incredulously. "Yeah, those girls were virgins and I'm a cow," I scoffed, laughing. Both boys stared at me with confused looks on their faces.

"Wanna explain?" Dean asked, eyebrow raised.

"Those girls are what I like to call angels on the streets, devils in the sheets; if you catch my drift."

"That's why it kept killing. The spell didn't work," Sam said in disbelief, leaning back in his chair as he understood.

"So, are you; a virgin that is?" Dean questioned me, a hint of a smile on his face.

"That's none of your business!" I snapped defensively.

"I'll take that as a yes." A full-blown grin broke out on his face as heat rushed into my cheeks.

"Dean, leave the poor girl alone," Sam interjected on my behalf. I gave him a small smile so he knew that I appreciated it. "This particular spell 'turns back complex mechanical processes and resets equipment and machinery'," he continued, scrolling on his computer.

"And that requires the blood of a virgin?" Dean asked, skeptical.

"Yeah. The blood has to be anointed over the machines for it to work. The rest of the ingredients are fairly common," Sam shrugged. "It wouldn't take an adept witch to do this."

"Ah, so we're looking for a Sabrina," Dean commented.

"Why does that matter?" I piped up.

"Older, more powerful witches are harder to kill. They can use their magic to protect them. But amateurs don't know as much," Sam explained.

"A simple gunshot or knife wound can take them down," Dean added. "So, you ready to be bait?" he grinned at me.

"Excuse me?" I squeaked, nearly choking on my burger. Sam patted me on the back while I coughed, giving his brother an exasperated look.

"We're not using her as bait, Dean!"

"Why not?" he countered. "We know what its after. She's the virgin that got away. It'll come looking for her eventually, Sammy; we might as well get the drop on it."

"No, Dean," Sam answered protectively, rising from his seat to stand between me and Dean.

"I'll do it," I said from behind Sam, knowing I was going to regret this decision. Dean smirked happily at his brother.

"Avery," Sam pleaded, giving me a sad pair of puppy dog eyes.

"Sam, he's right. What're the chances it doesn't come looking for me?" I gave him a weak half smile when he sighed, knowing there was no going back now.

"Let's gank a witch," Dean beamed, already snapping a magazine into his pistol. I chuckled a little at how excited he seemed while Sam just shook his head.


	4. Bewitching Strangers Chapter 4

We ended up deciding to take me back to the ruins of my former home right before sunset. The witch would either be hanging around there waiting for me to come back, or it was already watching and would meet us there. The boys dropped me off in front of what remained of the house and parked the Impala close to the tree line behind it. They were out of sight but could still see me for the most part. I was armed with a large hunting knife, tucked into the waistband of my jeans.

The police had long since sorted through the rubble and left, leaving only caution tape behind. I could barely breath as I ducked beneath the tape to walk around, memories trying to resurface with each step. In the front yard, stood the tall oak that held the tree swing where my brothers and I had played as children. I had climbed that tree countless times and I was sure my initials were still carved into one of the highest branches.

I walked slowly towards the barn, retracing a path I had known all my life. The paint had faded long ago on the old wooden structure as I rubbed my palm over the door. I pulled it open, immediately hit with the familiar smell of animals, hay, and feed. A few of the horses knickered at a friendly face as I stepped inside. Sitting off to the side, right where I had left them, were my favorite pair of boots. I kicked off the old loaner tennis shoes I had on and slipped my feet into the worn leather. At least I had something important to me that survived.

After petting a few of the animals, I walked outside again, suddenly very antsy. The sun was setting rapidly and taking the last few minutes of light with it. If we waited any longer, it was going to tip things into the witch's hands. As I came around the corner, I saw an old beat up truck sitting in the driveway that hadn't been there earlier.

"Hello?" I called, not seeing anyone sitting inside the cab. "Hello?" I said again, louder this time, the hair on the back of my neck beginning to stand up. I grabbed the hilt of the knife, just in case. The fields to my right rustled, causing me to jerk that way suddenly. The rustling followed the edge of the field until it disappeared behind the house, suddenly stopping. I had turned in a small circle, following the noise. When it stopped, I turned back to the truck where someone was now standing.

"Oh, Jesus!" I exhaled in shock, clutching my chest. "It's just you, Gilligan. You scared the crap outta me." Gilligan McCoy was a regular at the restaurant and lived just a few miles over from our house. He was in his mid-thirties and we were familiar with each other. He came to the house at least once a week looking for odd jobs to help pay the bills.

"Sorry, Avery," he drawled, hands in his pockets, "I didn't mean to scare ya. I thought ya heard me pull up." He was slowly walking towards me, a dark look in his eyes that made me uncomfortable.

"It's okay," I said, taking a step back to put distance between us. "What're you doing here so late?" My hand slipped down to my waist where it gripped tightly around the hilt of the knife.

"Oh, well, I was just drivin' by and saw a strange car turn down the road. Wanted to make sure they weren't stealin' nothin'." He shrugged innocently, still striding towards me.

"Everything's fine. You can go home now," I told him, my voice starting to shake. He didn't seem to hear me, his pace quickening as he got closer. "Stay back," I warmed him, pulling the blade out of its hidden sheath. His hand swatted the air and the blade flew from my hand, landing in the dirt a few yards away. He was nearly to me now and my feet seemed glued in place. "Dean! Sam!" I yelled as loud as I could, hoping they would hear me.

"Sleep," Gilligan commanded, tapping two fingers between my eyes. I fell to the ground, immediately losing consciousness.

I awoke in an old barn, my hands tied above my head. I was dangling from a hook with my feet barely scraping the ground. I could see Gilligan in a far corner with his back to me, preparing what looked like ingredients while chanting. I looked at my rope restraints, trying to see if there was some way I could escape them. I pulled and tugged with all my might, but nothing happened.

"Damn it," I mumbled to myself, angry that I had let myself become a damsel in distress.

"Strugglin' won't get ya anywhere," Gilligan said smugly, carrying a large bowl as he came towards me. "The virgin who got away," he drawled, walking in a circle around me.

"How are you so sure?" I spat back. "You killed three other girls and look where that's gotten you." I tried to wiggle away from his touch as his hand ran down my cheek.

"You're different, Avery," he called my bluff. "I know ya and you're different from them." He pulled a knife out of his back pocket, reaching for my arm.

"You don't have to do this," I pleaded with him, trying my hardest to shy away from the blade.

"Yeh, I do!" he screamed violently. "Because of the people in this town, like ya daddy, who offered me sympathy and not a real lick of help! How'm I supposed to survive if I can't farm, huh?" The edge of his knife bit into the skin of my forearm, making it weep crimson drops that he collected in the bowl. I couldn't help but whimper at the pain.

"You bastard," I said through clenched teeth. "We gave you work every time you came begging for it."

"But ya never hired me on as a hand with steady pay!" he yelled back, slicing my other forearm. This time, I spit in his face as he collected the blood. He laughed manically as he wiped away the spittle. "You'll pay for that, brat. But not till I suck ya dry and get all my machines back in order." He went to make another cut, higher up my arm, when Dean and Sam burst through the barn doors.

"Hey, hands off the virgin!" Dean shouted, gun aimed directly at Gilligan's chest. The knife cut deep into my arm as a startled Gilligan whipped around at the sound of the boys. He scrambled behind me, cold metal fixed across my throat.

"Come any closer and she dies!" Gilligan threatened.

"I doubt that," Dean retorted back, gun still raised. "You've had rotten luck trying to find virgins. You won't throw her away that easily."

"Dean, we need to hurry. She's bleeding out," Sam whispered to his brother, watching the crimson that was quickly soaking my clothing and making me light headed. They both made a few steps towards me and the knife at my throat pressed harder. I let out a soft whine as it pushed against my windpipe.

"Yer killin' her," Gilligan warned again, still cowering behind me.

"Then come out and fight like a man!" Dean challenged. I heard Gilligan growl deep in his throat, offended by the taunt. "Coward!" he added, seeing that he had upset the witch.

"I ain't no-" Gilligan started, taking a step around me to have a go at Dean. Both boys put a bullet through his chest the second he presented a clear target. I shrieked, recoiling instantly at the loud noise.

"Go take care of her, Sammy. I've got him," Dean commanded, his gun still trained on the body now lying motionless on the ground. Sam hurriedly tucked his pistol into his waistband, already starting to jog over to me. He easily lifted me off the hook and sat me down gently, my blood now covering his hands.

"Great timing, guys," I croaked softly, the edges of my vision going blurry. Sam pulled a knife from his jacket and made quick work of the rope around my wrists. He then shed his jacket and outer flannel, tearing the cloth into long strips of bandages.

"Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear?" Dean lightly teased, having confirmed that the threat was gone. I laughed weakly, wincing as his brother tied a makeshift bandage around the deepest cut on my arm.

"This one's gonna need stitches," Sam said worriedly, tying another piece of cloth around the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He wrapped the other two cuts quickly and pulled his jacket back on.

"Well, let's go then," Dean said, carefully wrapping one of my arms around his neck. Sam did the same and they were able to easily drag me out to the Impala. The edges of my vision were dark and I could feel the cuts continuing to leak despite the bandages, but I was assured it wasn't life threatening. The ride back involved me lying prone in the backseat with both boys reminding me to stay awake every few seconds.

When we got to the motel, they carried me in the same way and deposited me in a chair. Sam immediately began rummaging around in his duffle while Dean grabbed a bottle of bourbon off the counter. He pulled up a chair beside me, handing me the bottle.

"Drink up, kiddo," he told me with a grim smile.

"What for?" I asked curiously, taking a large gulp despite my fuzzy vision. The liquid burned the back of my throat, distracting me briefly from the pain coursing down my arms.

"Just trust me," he said, stealing the bottle for a sip of his own.

"How good are you with pain?" Sam questioned, walking over with gauze, needle, and thread in his hands.

"Oh, god," I moaned, downing another drink of bourbon, knowing exactly what he meant. I laid my arm across the table with my bicep exposed so that he could reach the wound. I winced as the younger Winchester poured some of the alcohol on the deepest cut to cleanse it. Next, he disinfected the needle and thread, and then his hands. He let out a deep breath and carefully began stitching up my arm. I grimaced, biting down hard on my lip to keep from crying.

"Hey, Avery, focus on me," Dean demanded, drawing my attention away from the pain. I craned my neck in his direction, trying to blink away the moisture in my eyes. "You did a good job out there tonight." His green eyes were sincere as they held mine.

"Why, Dean, is that a compliment?" I teased, the pain evident in my voice.

"Yeah, uh, I guess so," he admitted, laughing lightly. "Even if you were just bait." He grinned broadly, enjoying pestering me.

"Well, thanks. You weren't too bad yourself." I grinned back despite my discomfort, his smile infectious. He laughed until he heard me gasp, worry instantly flashing across his face. "Damn," I hissed through clenched teeth, the needle biting the tender skin on the underside of my arm.

"Done," Sam finally said, tying the last knot.

"Not bad," I commented, inspecting the eight thick stitches in my arm before he wrapped them with gauze. "This is a pretty normal thing for you two, isn't it?" I realized, knowing stitches didn't look this professional without plenty of practice. I held out my other arm so that he could properly bandage the other cuts.

"Just another Tuesday night," Dean answered with a sarcastic grin.

"The things you must've seen," I wondered aloud, seeing the hardened look on the boys' faces. They had taken care of Gilligan without so much as a scratch on them. How many other types of creatures had they slaughtered or countless victims saved? What if I could become like that; take down the real monster responsible for my family's death? "I want in," I said firmly, looking directly at Dean.

He almost spit out a mouthful of bourbon, coughing as he struggled to swallow. "What? Uh-, hm? Excuse me?" he barely managed, giving me an incredulous look.

"Avery, you don't understand what this life is like," Sam started, concern on his face.

"What don't I understand?" I protested, standing up. "That people get hurt?" I pointed to the white gauze on my arm that was already spotting with crimson. "That people die?" I said, raising my voice slightly. I choked back a tear, thinking of my family and even allowing an image of Gilligan to flash in front of my eyes.

"Avery...," Sam muttered, dropping his head, knowing I was right.

"You're too young," Dean suddenly interjected, as if it was his first thought.

I raised my eyebrow in annoyance at him. "Sam, when were you born?" I asked without looking away from Dean.

"May, nineteen eighty-three," the younger brother answered slowly.

"June of eighty-three," I smirked, waiting to hear the next objection. Dean looking visibly surprised when he realized how old I was. "Just cause I look like I'm twelve doesn't mean that I actually am," I huffed, rolling my eyes.

"You don't-" he began to counter.

"I know how to handle a knife and a gun," I interrupted, knowing it would be his next protest. "The rest you can teach me." I shrugged as he thought about it. Sam was grinning slightly, warming up to the idea of taking me along. Dean, however, crossed his arms, mouth set in a firm line. He was harder to convince than his younger brother. "Dean, there's nothing left for me here. I won't stay here and try to farm by myself. I wasn't meant for a small town like this. I want to be out there hunting things and saving people; like you. Please," I begged, giving him the best pair of puppy dog eyes I could manage. "At least give me a chance. If it doesn't work out, then I'll come back home; no questions asked."

He glared at me for a long moment before releasing a deep breath, letting his head tilt slightly. His mouth softened as he extended his hand towards me. "Deal," he said sternly, his green eyes capturing mine.

"Deal," I answered, clasping his hand, an ecstatic grin on my face. Sam was beaming too, just as happy as me. "So, someone wanna let me borrow a shirt?" I asked, holding out the edges of mine to show the large section of blood staining it.

"I'm gonna regret this," Dean mumbled, throwing a plain black t-shirt at me. I caught it, grinning. I turned to an empty corner, drawing my ruined shirt over my head. "But maybe not," I heard him whisper as I tugged the other shirt on to cover the bare skin of my back. I giggled at how large it was, easily dwarfing my already small figure. "Alright, short stuff," he teased, rolling his eyes, "time to get a move on."

"Hey!" I shouted, offend. He simply smirked back, enjoying my reaction. "We're leaving tonight?" I questioned, watching as the boys began to pack their things.

"It's best to make ourselves scarce," they told me, already carrying things out to the Impala.

The three of us climbed into the car and Dean turned on the engine. As we pulled out of the motel parking lot, Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd played softly on the radio. I watched the distant lights of my hometown fade as we drove down the dark highway and I knew I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss it. My whole life had revolved around the little town until just a few days ago. But once my whole world had been turned upside down, I wasn't tied to the place anymore. As the song kicked over into the chorus before the guitar solo, I turned to look at the long road ahead of us. I took a deep breath, realizing that I finally felt like I could breathe freely. I smiled, ready to start my new life as a hunter with the Winchester brothers.


	5. Haunted Asylum Chapter 1

Thick smoke hung in the air, choking me as I stumbled around the old house. I hacked violently, leaning on a doorframe, trying to get my bearings. I could see the glow of fire crawling up the stairwell behind me, its tendrils seeking to smother me. I ran down the hall, banging on closed doors as I raced by. I screamed for them to wake up, hoping someone would hear me. But the doorknobs refused to turn, the fire creeping closer, as I continued to flee. I sprinted through the endless maze until my lungs felt like they could burst, filled with more smoke than oxygen. I slammed into a dead-end corridor as the flames rounded the corner behind me. I beat against the wall, crying and begging there to be another way out. As the blaze got closer, I could hear their voices calling out to me. When I gazed into the flames, I could see my family standing there. Their eyes were hollow and lifeless, tendrils of fire curling around their charred bodies. They beckoned and called to me, inviting me to join them in the suffering I condemned them to as the fiery vines twisted towards me. And there, standing behind my burning family, was a red-eyed demon with a cruel smile on his face. I opened my mouth to scream as the flames finally kissed my skin.

I woke myself up before the scream escaped my lips. My thick brunette curls clung to my face and I wasn't sure if it was from sweat or tears. I pushed my hair out of my face as I sat up, trying to calm my rapid breathing. Nothing felt safe or familiar about the motel room we were staying in as I glanced around in the dark. I was afraid to examine the darkness around me, convinced I would see my family's charred faces peering back at me. Both boys were sound asleep, a soft snore escaping their mouth occasionally. I quietly crawled out of bed, grabbing a shirt laying over the back of a nearby chair. After pulling on jeans and my boots, I slipped outside.

"It's just a dream," I whispered to myself over and over as I walked to the Impala. I climbed on top of the trunk and shrugged on the over shirt I had grabbed. I shivered despite the thick material, undoubtedly from the thin layer of sweat covering my skin. The air was cold in the dark, pre-dawn hours of the morning; even colder because of our location. We were in the northeast corner of Kansas; or had we finally crossed over into Nebraska? Either way it was farther north than I had ever been.

"So that's where my shirt went." I jumped at the voice, not expecting anyone else to be awake so early. Dean was walking up to me, hands stuck in his pockets with his thumbs hanging out. His normally styled hair was ruffled from sleep and his green eyes looked concerned. I glanced down and saw that I had indeed accidentally stolen his shirt. "You alright?" he asked, hopping up beside me.

I shook my head, trying to convince him. "Uh, yeah, of course. Just couldn't sleep," I smiled weakly, which I knew he didn't buy for a second. "I didn't mean to wake you," I apologized, dropping my head to pick at one of my fingernails.

"Nightmare again?" I nodded, ignoring the tears pressing against my eyes. "You didn't scream this time," he noted, shoulder bumping me lightly. I'm sure he meant it to cheer me up, but it only made me feel worse.

I had started traveling with Dean and Sam a few weeks ago, leaving everything behind. We had quickly adjusted to each other, the boys already starting to fill the gap left by my late family. Their absence stung fiercely, threatening to choke the life out of me; but the way the Winchester's acted like my older brothers made the hole in my chest smaller and the pain a bit more bearable. We bounced from one motel to the next, slowly making our way up the Kansas/Missouri border. My recurring nightmare had showed up a few days after leaving Arkansas. The first night I had woken them up screaming bloody murder. The boys had jumped out of bed, pistols in hand, ready to gank whatever was attacking me; I had been so embarrassed to scare them like that for a stupid dream. As the nightmare continued to come back most nights, I learned to wake myself up before it got too far. What I couldn't seem to learn was how to stop the feelings the nightmare dredged up every night, leaving me with fresh waves of pain even copious amounts of alcohol was having trouble taming.

"What woke you up then?" I wondered, looking up at him.

"You're not as quiet as you think," he teased with a small smile. I felt the edge of my mouth lift, knowing that he was trying to comfort me in his own way. "Well, do you think you can go back to sleep?" he asked me, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"I doubt it," I admitted, shaking out my hair and rubbing away the leftover makeup that no doubt resided underneath my eyes.

"Then let's get started," he grinned, sliding off the Impala and striding across the parking lot to an open grassy area. I scrambled after him, holding on to the oversized flannel as it flapped in the wind.

By the time the sun rose a few hours later, Dean and I were both soaked in sweat despite the cold air. I threw a right hook at his extended hand, firmly smacking his palm. I held my fists in front of my face, bobbing lightly on my toes, just like he had taught me.

"Better," he said gruffly, flexing his fingers. "Again," he commanded, a slight twinkle in his green eyes. I punched his hand again, harder, gritting my teeth.

Nearly every morning I sparred with one or both boys, trying to learn hand to hand combat. It was a good outlet for my pent-up emotions and necessary if I was going to survive being a hunter. This morning Dean had me going through basic stances. Once I could hold the stance, then he showed me how to strike from the position. I would throw punches, kicks, and strikes dozens of times until he approved. Then we would move on to the next position. It wasn't surprising that dark purple bruises covered most of my knuckles, forearms, and shins.

"You hit like a girl," Dean smirked with a cocky grin when my next hit was less than spectacular. My temper flared at his offhand comment, making my brow furrow. It was a simple jest, meant to rile me up, but I found it striking a raw chord I didn't even know was there. I wound up, preparing to miss his hand and hit him square in the jaw. As I let my hand go, he easily caught my fist. His hand was large enough that his fingers wrapped completely around it, so I couldn't pull back. His eyes had gone dark and his mouth formed a stern line. "Act like you mean it and don't tell the person where you're gonna strike," he chastised, squeeze my fist and making my eyes water.

"I didn't say anything," I spat, teeth clenched. I tried prying his fingers off with my other hand, but they wouldn't budge.

"Didn't have to," he countered, tightening his grip as I tried to pull against him. "Your whole body told me right where you were aiming." He twerked my arm as he let go, throwing me off balance so that I stumbled forward.

I came up swinging, truly starting to get angry. He blocked me with his forearms as easily as if he were swatting a fly. He let me throw a few more, my last one managing to clip his jaw. Pain ran across my knuckles and down my fingers as I pulled back, wincing. He slid his jaw slowly back and forth, popped his neck, and gave me an unforgiving smile. My eyes widened in panic, realizing what I had done. Dean's right arm came crashing down, giving me only enough time to throw my arms up over my head. When his arm bounced off mine, I raised my head, trying to think of what I was supposed to do next. I couldn't collect my thoughts before he threw another punch. I thankfully ducked to the left, feeling the breeze of his fist across my cheek.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, jogging towards us from the motel room. His call distracted his brother long enough that I was able to take a quick breath and think of my next move. I raised my leg, planning to strike his side. Dean was quicker though, catching my foot with both hands. He raised an eyebrow, not amused, but clearly enjoying me dancing around on one leg.

"Let go," I growled, nose flaring. I hopped around, trying my hardest not to lose my balance. I recognized his cheeky smirk a moment too late, immediately starting to protest. He didn't listen, instead twisting my ankle and leg so that I went crashing to the ground. I rolled to sit upright, grabbing the knife at my hip in one fluid motion. I jumped to my feet, reared back, and hurled the blade as hard as I could. It flew by Dean's head, barely missing his ear.

Sam reached us as I threw the knife, all three of us breathing heavily. Dean's eyes widened in shock which was quickly replaced by rage. His brother recognized the look and grabbed me around the waist, pointing a finger at Dean, saying, "Don't!"

"Sam, let me go!" I shouted, flailing in his iron grip. He carried me to a park bench a little way away and sat me down roughly, which was partially my fault. He gave me an exasperated look as I fumed, arms crossed. I could see Dean stalking off to pick up the knife, now buried up to the hilt in the grass. "Your brother's a jerk," I grumbled as Sam sat down to inspect my ankle. I inhaled sharply when he touched it, pain already starting to develop.

"He doesn't know any better," Sam said quietly, still looking at my ankle.

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously.

"Our dad was a real hard ass. It was learn quick or get hurt. That right there," he said, glancing at his brother, "was exactly how he trained us."

"You don't really talk about him," I said softly, laughing inwardly at how Sam's hair kept falling in his face. He looked up at me through it, his doe brown eyes turning sad.

"Ah, well, we didn't really get along. But he did the best he could, given the circumstances, raising us by himself." His eyes went a little misty and his voice started to choke.

"Is he…?" I couldn't finish the thought, thinking of my own father. Sam nodded, biting his lip. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely, grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. Maybe the three of us had more in common than we thought.

He flashed a quick smile, then mumbled, "Thanks, Avery."

"So, what's the diagnosis on my ankle?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood and reciprocate the kindness they had shown me lately.

"It's not broken. Just bruised like the rest of you," he joked, pointing at my purple knuckles. I rolled my eyes and grabbed his extended hand as I swung off the bench. We walked to the Impala where Dean was leaned against the side, just getting off the phone.

"Time to pack up, kiddos. We've got a case," he said as we got closer, pushing off the car.

"Where at?" Sam asked.

"Right outside Louisville, Kentucky," his brother answered. Sam nodded and headed inside the motel room to grab his things. I was about to follow him when Dean stopped me. He held out the knife I had thrown earlier, handing it to me. As I reached to grab it, he pulled the handle back. "You try something like that again, missy-," he started, scowling at me, his tone making it clear that he was still angry.

"Yeah, I know," I snorted, trying to cool my own temper. He handed back the blade which I returned to its sheath. We threw our things into worn out duffle bags and loaded up into the Impala in a matter of fifteen minutes, which thankfully improved Dean's mood. He was itching for a hunt, wanting nothing more than a long black flat top in front of Baby. I took my honorary place in the backseat, pulling out a book for the long drive. Dean started blaring his mullet rock music, loud enough that the windows shook. "Really?" I shouted, holding up my book in the rearview mirror for him to see. He gave me a snarky grin before turning up the volume more. I stuck my tongue out, knowing he was still punishing me for earlier. He returned the gesture and I saw Sam shake his head at our childishness.

I grudgingly dug through my bag in the floorboard. It was better to let him enjoy the drive then have him riding my butt the rest of the hunt because he was pissed. I grabbed my iPod and stuck my earbuds in, hoping to drown out the sound of screeching guitars. Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts began playing and I shrugged, liking the upbeat country song.


	6. Haunted Asylum Chapter 2

Eight hours of road tripping later put us just outside of Louisville, Kentucky. I was fascinated by the bright lights and skyscrapers as we drove to our motel on the other side of town. I fangirled a little as we passed Churchill Downs, receiving odd looks from both Winchesters. I had to explain that I had been raised around horses and being able to see the racetrack was on my bucket list. Or at least it had been before my life had been disrupted.

When we finally parked, I groaned as I climbed out of the Impala. I stretched, hoping it would help the aching in my limbs from sitting for so long. Dean rolled his eyes slightly while Sam gave me a sympathetic look. We strolled into the Derby themed room where I proceeded to plop down on the couch dramatically. Dean set his bag down and smacked me lightly on the back of the head, telling me to sit up.

"Ouch!" I said, rubbing my head as I scooted over to let him sit down.

"Princess," he teased, "that didn't even hurt."

"Whatever." I shoved him against the arm of the couch playfully to which he acted offended.

"Better watch yourself, King," he warned, trying to hide a grin as he pushed back.

"Yeah? Or what?" I challenged. I turned to look at him and found his deep green eyes staring at me intently. For a moment, I got lost in them and the dusting of freckles across his nose. Those endless freckles that covered his handsome face and enhancing his cheekbones. He leaned in closer, only a few inches from my face, and I felt the air catch in my throat. Was he going to kiss me, I found myself briefly wondering.

Instead, he quickly pinned me against the couch. I gasped as he gently pushed his hips down on mine, leaving little to my imagination. "I'm not sure you'll like being under me," he whispered, his voice low and husky in my ear. "Then again…" he trailed off, giving me a lustful look. His lips hovered over my skin, slowly making their way to mine. His head bobbed, teasing me so that my lips parted slightly. I could feel his breath on my skin and his scent filled my nostrils. I could hardly think as our lips barely touched, but longing was starting to take over my body.

"Dean," I breathed, not sure if I was asking him to get off or come closer. He pulled away slightly, staring me dead in the eye. Before he could do anything though, the bathroom door began to jiggle. My eyes went wide, having completely forgotten about Sam. I pushed Dean off me hurriedly, my heart pounding. He seemed dazed, just sitting there watching me as I fixed my hair and clothes.

Sam walked out to see us panting lightly, my cheeks flushed a deep red. "Uh, did I miss something?" he asked uncomfortably, thinking he had just caught us in the act. I was about to tell him to shove it, still embarrassed that I had let myself succumb to Dean so easily.

"What are you talking about, man?" Dean answered before I could, playing the whole thing off. He stood, discreetly adjusting his jeans as he did. Sam gave him a look of disbelief but didn't say anything else. "Well," he said, glancing at his watch, "it's too late to get started on the case. Looks like we have the night to ourselves, kids." He grinned, no doubt thinking of what he would do with his evening.

"Speaking of the case, mind sharing the details?" I asked, still completely in the dark.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot someone fell asleep on the ride here," Sam pestered, already pulling his laptop out of his bag.

I scrunched my face sullenly. "I don't sleep well," I grumbled, hating that I was teased for my napping. I lived in a constant state of exhaustion now, so I caught a few z's whenever I could manage. Sam dropped his gaze at the tone of my voice, realizing he had hit a nerve. One of the many I seemed to possess now.

"Bobby called this morning, said he'd gotten a tip from a retired buddy of his." Dean pulled out a chair from the table as he talked and sat down, straddling it. "Several mysterious and brutal murders at the Waverly Hills Sanatorium over the last few months; all taking place in room five oh two."

"All in that room?" I gawked.

"Yep," he nodded. "Local police think it's gang and drug related."

"So, whadda we think it is?" I had been reading through John Winchester's journal in my spare time, but I couldn't rattle off supernatural beings yet.

"Waverly is chocked full of ghosts," Sam interjected excitedly. "They hold daily ghost tours during this time of the year." He was practically bouncing in his seat as he talked.

Dean shook his head at Sam while giving me a sidelong glance. "He's got a haunted hotel fetish thing," he told me.

"It is not a fetish," Sam said defensively.

"It's a load of bullshit, if you ask me," Dean snapped back. "Those places are rigged with motion sensors and projectors and crap. It's all a hoax." I sat back, enjoying them bicker like the brothers they were.

"So, I guess we're staying up to do research then," I laughed, trying to distract them before they argued themselves into a fight.

"Sam is doing that, short stuff," Dean corrected. "I'm going to see what the night life is like here." He winked with a cocky look plastered across his face. "You coming?" he asked me as he stood and grabbed the Impala's keys.

"Uh, no. Not tonight," I mumbled.

The boys seemed surprised at my answer, mouths hanging open a little. "Really?" Dean questioned. Apparently, it had become common for me to accompany Dean on his bar excursions. I usually went for the alcohol, occasionally flirting for a few free drinks from men too drunk to care. Dean liked the company and considered me his wing woman. But after our 'moment' earlier, I wasn't feeling like dealing with him. My cheeks were flushing just thinking about his weight bearing down on me.

No, not tonight. Let him drink and hit on people alone. Sam was far better company anyways. "Still a brand-new bottle of Jack in your bag?"

"Well, yeah-," he started, not sure why I was asking.

"Then I'm staying in," I said firmly.

"Suit yourself," Dean grumbled, slamming the door behind him as he left. Sam chuckled a little, still gawking at me.

"What?" I shrugged, acting innocent.

"Did something happen between you and my brother?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Me and Dean?" I scoffed, rummaging through Dean's bag for the whiskey bottle. "Not a chance," I smirked. "Besides, you know you're my favorite, Sam." I winked playfully as I grabbed my own computer and sat down opposite him at the table.

He blushed lightly, knowing I was teasing him. "Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Avery."

"So, tell me what I'm looking for then," I said, letting the alcohol rush down my throat as Sam talked.

"Avery," the voice whispered, shaking my shoulder gently. I moaned groggily, lifting my head from the keyboard where it had been resting. I blinked several times to clear my vision, unfocused from profuse amounts of alcohol. The room was dark except for a small dim lamp whose light illuminated the deep green eyes in front of me. Green eyes? Didn't I know someone with those eyes? They seemed so familiar, but my mind seemed so distant as I tried to recall.

"Dean?" I mumbled, the name suddenly coming to me. He gave a half smile as I ran a hand over my face and through my hair. "What time is it?" I asked, swiveling my head for a clock in the dark room. "What the hell happened to your face?" As my vision cleared, I realized that his face was bleeding from a gash across his eyebrow and there was faint bruising around his eye.

"Hmm?" he mused, absently reaching for his face as if he had forgotten about the wound. "Oh, this? It's nothing. Just a scratch."

"Doesn't look like nothing," I insisted, stretching my hand out to double check.

"I said it was nothing," he said loudly, flicking my hand away. Sam rolled over in his sleep at the loud noise, making us both flinch.

"Sit your butt down now," I hissed quietly, glaring when he thought about ignoring me. He conceded, rolling his eyes as he sat down at the table. I pulled our small first aid kit out of Sam's bag and rejoined Dean at the table. "So, you gonna tell me what happened?" I asked, lightly wiping the blood off his face.

He unscrewed the lid of the bourbon bottle as he talked. "I was having a good ole time, my tongue down this hot blonde's throat. Next thing I know, her husband is caving my face in." He took a swig of the liquid, wincing when I pressed too hard on his forehead. "Guess he didn't like it."

"Pig," I muttered under my breath, scowling as I tacked a butterfly bandage on his face.

"Jesus-" he started to exclaim before I hushed him. "Jesus," he said, lowering his voice, "how much of a scumbag do you think I am?"

"Oh, please!" I angrily whispered back. "I've seen how you work. Night after night, hitting on anything with a pulse."

"Yeah, well, for your information I was minding my own business when she came on to me. Didn't even buy me a drink or say anything about a husband," he grumbled, obviously offended that I thought so little of him.

My face softened at his reaction, sorry that I had so quickly misjudged him. "I'm sorry," I said softly.

"Yeah, well…" he trailed off, his voice sounding as if he didn't blame me. "At least your evening was better than mine."

I snaked the bottle from him, my previous buzz rapidly wearing off. "I don't know about that. So much research," I moaned when Dean gave me a quizzical look. "There's just too much on this place. Nobody agrees on anything and when they do nothing is consistent. Believe all of it or none of it," I shrugged hopelessly.

"So, you're saying we're going in blind?"

"I'm saying we won't know anything until we get in there ourselves."

He groaned, "Awesome," before taking the alcohol back from me. "I think you've had enough for one night," he said.

"So have you," I protested, reaching for it.

"Then let's call it a night, alright?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for my compliance. I scrunched my face before giving in and rising from the table.

"Goodnight, Dean," I said softly over my shoulder, getting ready to climb in bed.

"Night, short stuff," he returned gruffly, flipping off the light as he settled onto the couch. I stared into the darkness for several minutes, listening to his calm breathing, hoping the Jack Daniels was enough to give me a dreamless night.

Waverly Hills Sanatorium surely lived up to its reputation. It rose tall out of the ground, stretching wide across the land it inhabited. The brick was old and worn from improper care and hardly a window wasn't broken or boarded up. Fresh graffiti covered a few panels on the lower level, despite the maintenance man's vicious scrubbing. The sun created creeping shadows that seemed to claw their way towards the lines of people eagerly waiting outside.

I couldn't help but shiver from the sheer presence of the building as I stepped out of the Impala. The feeling of darkness and pain was almost palpable in the air. I hugged closely to Sam and Dean, their strength and assurance soothing me slightly. We strolled to the entrance, paying for our overpriced tickets with Dean's fake credit card. This was supposed to be a scouting trip to see what we were up against, but I felt naked without any weapons. I was visibly shaking from fear and anticipation as we walked through the main doors to join a group tour.

Sam noticed and placed a hand on my back while leaning down to talk in my ear. "Are you okay?" His voice was full of concern and it touched me to think that he cared so much.

"Do I look okay?" I snapped back without meaning to. He frowned, not understanding what he had done wrong. "I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head apologetically. "I'm just a little nervous is all. Haunted houses aren't really my thing."

He smiled kindly, his eyes giving me a sympathetic look. "Everyone gets scared on their first hunt," he reassured me.

"But this isn't my first hunt," I started to object before Dean cut in.

"That vampire mess doesn't count. Didn't even gank a single thing," he scoffed, shoving his hands deeper in his pockets as he glanced around the high vaulted ceiling of the foyer.

I rolled my eyes, grumbling under my breath, "Still managed to save your ass though."

He pretended he didn't hear my comment as Sam gave a small cough of a laugh. "You're in the wrong line of business if you can't handle this," Dean said, giving me a harsh look. "You're walking back to Arkansas if it doesn't work out."

"That's too bad, cause you're stuck with me now, Winchester," I smirked back. He wasn't going to get rid of me that easily. I may have been scared, but I wasn't a chicken or a quitter. I only had that much more to prove now.

He rolled his eyes while giving my face a small push, an endearing gesture meant to wipe away my smug look. "Shut up," he chuckled as I huffed, fixing the hair that had fallen in front of my eyes. "And don't get left behind," he added as the tour guide cheerfully called for our attention.

"Do you mind?" I sheepishly asked Sam, grabbing a fistful of the corner of his jacket. He gave me a crooked grin and gently placed my hand in the crook of his elbow. I had to walk briskly to keep up with his long strides, but I felt better knowing if something happened that he would have my back.

Our tour guide was a peppy blonde with a shrill voice who quickly picked Dean out of the crowd. As she led us through the rooms and floors, she made a point to answer any and every question he asked. Much of the first floor had been renovated, but a fresh coat of paint couldn't shake the amount of suffering that had occurred here. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end the further we walked, and I found myself purposely avoiding looking in hidden corners.

As we neared the end of the fourth floor, Sam pulled his EMF reader out of his pocket to check for a signal. I happened to catch the tour guide's cheery voice over the noise of the EMF reader in my ear. "…Our white lady struck again recently so I'm afraid our tour of the inside of the building is going to be cut short today, so if everyone would please follow me downstairs."

"White lady?" I muttered to myself, realizing a second later that she was referring to our ghost. "Hey! Wait a sec!" I shouted after her, letting go of Sam's arm to push to the front of the crowd to make sure I was heard. "What white lady?" I asked when the tour guide turned around to acknowledge me.

"Our resident white lady? Of room five oh two? Oh, she's our most famous ghost here," the woman told me proudly, as if vengeful spirits were something to be proud of. "In nineteen twenty-eight, nurse Mary Hillenburg worked here. She had a love affair with one of the doctors and got pregnant out of wedlock with his child. When the doctor refused to leave his wife and the abortion failed, Mary took her own life. She hung herself on a light fixture inside room five oh two. They say she only murders those who look like her scornful lover." She seemed happy with her story telling abilities and, after asking if there were any more questions, led us down the stairs.

"Nice catch," Sam said with a wink as he walked past me, shuffling the EMF reader back into his jacket pocket.

"Thanks," I managed, my gaze lingering on the stairs leading up to the fifth floor. The remaining portion of the tour was outside, viewing numerous pavilions, an outdoor chapel, and the sanitorium's personal cemetery. While the cemetery had its own spooky atmosphere, I couldn't shake the feeling that something ominous was watching us from the fifth floor of the main building. I avoided glancing at the windows, too afraid I would see a shadow staring back at me.

The tour ended when our guide led us back inside to a cliché gift shop that contained merchandise claiming we had survived the world's most haunted hospital. Sam and I wondered aimlessly, jesting about some of the more outrageous products while Dean sweet talked the tour guide in the corner. He was flirting nonstop and her loud giggling rang around the room, making me grit my teeth in annoyance. I had almost convinced myself to drag him out by his ear when Sam suggested we go wait outside. I conceded and followed him back to the Impala, where we propped up against the trunk.

I stuffed my hands deeper into the pockets of my hooded leather jacket, the cold air nipping at my exposed skin. "Sam," I asked, "how did you end up so normal and Dean ended up, well, like that?" I gestured over to where Dean had the blonde tour guide pressed against the building, their tongues down each other's throats.

Sam chuckled slightly, the noise sounding as if he was embarrassed though I doubted he was surprised by anything his brother did anymore. "He's always been like that, for as long as I can remember. Even when we were kids, I was the nerdy little brother who liked homework and Dean was the rockstar sex god."

"So, too cool for school and too cool for little brother Sammy?" I guessed.

"No," Sam corrected, his voice going distant, "he was never too cool for me. But it didn't make me feel like any less of an outsider." His tone had turned sad, the air around him damping. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to ask or even if I should. "Sorry," he apologized, clearing his throat with an awkward laugh.

I shrugged, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "Don't be," I told him. "You happen to be sitting next the biggest band geek my town has ever seen."

I grinned as his eyes grew wide. "No way! You?" he asked in surprise, unable to believe his ears.

"Honest to God," I swore, raising my hand in the air. "Drum major for three years too."

He laughed heartily at that, no doubt trying to picture me in all my glory. "Alright, I think you win who's-the-biggest-nerd contest."

"Yeah, I usually do. Oh, look, here comes Casanova," I snorted, rolling my eyes as Dean coolly walked over to the car.

He was grinning broadly, letting out a breathless sigh as he moved to stand between us. "I got her number," he boasted, glancing back at the building where the guide was still standing.

"And?" Sam asked, trying to tease something else out of him.

"And she happened to tell me that there's no security in the building after nine o'clock. The guards are too scared to stay inside the building, so they station them at the gate at the end of the drive."

"No wonder they have trouble with trespassers," I commented, knowing how easy it was for teenagers to sneak in whenever they wanted.

"No kidding," Sam agreed. "What's the plan?" He looked to his older brother to officially call the shots.

"We'll get outta here and park down the road; wait until they pull all the guards out and then sneak back in."

"Sounds good," I said, rolling off the trunk and getting ready to climb into the backseat.


	7. Haunted Asylum Chapter 3

We had more than a couple of hours to kill before we could work the job, so Sam and I passed the time playing mindless games while Dean flipped through a newspaper. Sam was beating me mercilessly at thumb wars and we thankfully switched to Never Have I Ever. We were evenly matched, having already used the easy ones like eye color and hand dexterity.

It was his turn and he had his hand under his chin, trying to think of a question good enough to ask. "Got it!" he nearly shouted, his eyes gleaming. "Never have I ever worked at a fast food restaurant." His face was nearly as smug as Dean's when he'd beat me at hand to hand combat.

My mouth hung open in shock as I unwillingly folded one of my fingers. "That was a cheap shot, Sam Winchester!" I finally managed as he laughed at my bewildered expression. "And besides," I retorted, "I wouldn't call the diner fast food."

"Then what would you call it?" he chuckled, knowing he had me.

"Fine," I grumbled, "I'll give you that one." I pushed my anger aside, determined to get him back. The game was in his favor now at four fingers left, so I needed one I knew he had done. I racked my brain, trying to step up my game. God, I was so bad at this. "Never have I ever pointed a gun at someone," bubbled out of my mouth only seconds after the idea popped into my head.

Sam raised a perturbed eyebrow at me as he dropped a finger. "Now who's taking low blows."

"Just returning the favor," I drawled, batting my lashes playfully while smirking.

He rolled his eyes with a small chortle before giving me a cruel smile. "Never have I ever milked a cow."

My face deadpanned at the obvious hit. "I hate you," I said through gritted teeth, once again lowering a finger into my accumulating fist.

"Yeah, okay," Sam teased, not believing a word I said.

"I am going to beat you if you keep taking all these low blows," I threatened, my finger pointed menacingly at him over the seat separating us. He held his hands up in mock surrender. Dean tried to cover the sound of a chuckle as his newspaper crinkled loudly as he turned the page.

My turn again? Never have I flirted my way out of a speeding ticket? No, that was a lie. Never broken into a friend's house? That wouldn't work either. "Umm… let's see," I rambled, trying to come up with something quick. "Never have I ever run away from home?" Even as I said the words, I was frantically trying to remember if I had ever done such a thing. Sam's mouth contorted in a displeased manor as he put down another finger. "What?" I screeched, never believing sweet innocent Sam would pull such a stunt. He nodded his head sheepishly, ashamed to admit it. "No way!"

"I was a kid!" he countered quickly, trying to dissuade me. "Like maybe five or six," he added at my incredulous look. "Young enough to have an imaginary friend."

This time Dean scoffed loud enough for us to hear, lifting his head to look at his brother. "Dude, you were more like nine."

Sam blushed bright red as I laughed, trying to hide beneath his shaggy hair. "Oh god, you had an imaginary friend. How precious." I squealed, picturing a prepubescent Sam running around with an imaginary friend.

"Never have I ever been to prom!" he interjected, stopping my laugh in its tracks. He stuck his tongue out and I returned the gesture as I laid down my finger.

"Fine, guilty. Wait. Why haven't you been to a prom?" Sure, prom was one of those timeless traditions that required everyone attend or you were ridiculed endlessly; but deep down it was the highlight of high school. My dress had still been in the back of my closet when my house had burned to the ground.

"It's a long story," he said, rubbing the nape of his neck, "One that consists of hunting a werewolf and Dad breaking his wrist."

"Not to mention you couldn't get a date," Dean sniggered. He chortled as he recalled the memory. "You were relieved when he said we had to pack it up."

"I could too have gotten a date!" his brother snapped defensively. "I just didn't wanna go is all. High school dances are lame anyways."

I pursed my lips at his little side comment as I responded. "I enjoyed my lame high school prom, thank you very much."

"End up going with a group of girlfriends?" Dean teased, turning around to look at my pouting face.

"That is none of your business," I told him, wishing the heat in my cheeks would go away as his knowing eyes searched my face.

"That's a yes," he said with a smirk, turning back to his newspaper once more. Part of me wanted to defend myself, knowing there was nothing to be said, while the rest of me wanted to slap him. I did neither, instead seething at the fact that he could read me so easily. The majority of the time I didn't understand Dean Winchester, yet he seemed capable of reading my mind. I chewed on my lip in an attempt to dissipate my rage before realizing Sam was waiting on me to ask my question.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, trying to get my mind off Dean. Why did I feel as if I had thought of a good question only moments ago? Something to do with speeding or the police perhaps. Yes! "Never have I ever been in handcuffs," I piped up, proud at being able to recall the question. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that both Winchesters had spent fair amounts of time in handcuffs.

Sam, who's mouth was ajar in surprise, couldn't manage a word before Dean cut in. "Never?" he asked curiously, dropping the newspaper in his lap to fully turn around and look at me over the seat. His mouth curled into a devious smile as he draped his arm over the leather stitching and his eyes shone cheekily.

It took me a few moments longer than it should have to realize what he was implying. "Get your mind out of the gutter!" I snapped viscously, disgusted that his mind even went there. I felt the tips of my ears begin to burn as Dean laughed at my expense, always enjoying my embarrassment.

Sam cast a disapproving sideways glance at his brother as he continued to snigger. "You got me again," he conceded, pulling my attention away from Dean, "but that was an extremely pointed question."

"Oh? Well, I've been arrested before, so I had to be more specific than that." I didn't think much of my flippant response until both the brothers exploded.

"You?" they shouted in unison. They scrambled in their seats, trying to see me better as I shrank back from their sudden loudness. Both were babbling words as if they were thinking of too many questions and couldn't figure which ones to ask first.

"My brother was a deputy!" was all I managed to say, a tad overwhelmed by the scene they were making.

"That doesn't mean jack squat!" Sam choked out. Dean mimicked him, using a more colorful word choice.

Seeing how vehemently they reacted, I knew they weren't going to let me go without telling the story. "Alright!" I shouted to silence them, so I could speak. "I was a teenager and a couple of friends, well, we got caught trespassing on someone's land. Weren't doing nothing but messing around. So, they called the cops and arrested everyone. It was just meant to scare us, and Dan was in on it the whole time." I tried to hide behind my hair, an embarrassed blush creeping up my neck as I thought back on the memory.

"Counts, you little felon," Dean teased, typical smirk on his face. "Wish I'd known that before I agreed to let you tag along." He nudged Sam playfully, who grinned deeply at his brother's joke.

"Please!" I blurted out, peeved by his harmless comment, "you two both have a rap sheet a mile long!"

My temper only made them laugh, finding the situation even more comical. "Maybe if we get her angry, she'll commit another crime," Sam said, mischief tugging up the corners of his grin as he joined in on the fun.

I pursed my lips, not enjoying their pestering. "I'm already about to break into a building with you," I spat. "Not to mention I'm committing credit card fraud for you," I added, silencing any quip Sam was about to make.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean cut in, "you wanted the clothes and the shoes and the iPod? Then you got to help find the money for them. What's with those shoes anyways?" He snorted as he peeked over the seat to glance at my feet. "They're not even practical." He gave a disapproving look after studying my shoes for a brief moment.

"They are too!" I shot back, offended by his criticism. The shoes in question were a pair of black faux leather booties with thick laces running up the front. Two parallel rows of small silver studs crested the tract of the zip on the backside. The three-inch heel was thicker than a stiletto and gave me just enough height to not feel so dwarfed by the giants who were my present company. "Besides, they're cute with the little heel and studs."

"Whatever you say, munchkin," Sam responded jovially with a chuckle.

I gasped loudly, making sure I heard him correctly. "You shut your filthy mouth, Winchester," I breathed, glaring daggers at him. "I am average height. Average!" I fumed, irate that he'd call me such a thing. But when his eyes crinkled as he grinned, part of me warmed at the thought of the pet name that was sure to stick. Dean constantly called me "short stuff"; how was this any different? I blamed my recent mood swings, outwardly rolling my eyes so that Sam might believe I was still upset. His sweet smile said he wasn't fooled for a second. "Weren't we playing a game?" I said, trying to distract the brothers from tormenting me further.

"Yeah, yeah; of course," Sam said, taking the hint. He sat thinking for several moments, both of us at one finger each. His next question could very well win him the game and he wasn't going to waste this opportunity. The longer we sat in silence the more I realized that we had nearly exhausted all our options. There were few things left that I could think of that would apply to him but not me.

Sam pursed his lips before speaking, not confident in what he was about to say. "Never have I ever lost weight to impress someone."

"Dammit," I mumbled, dropping my face as tears threatened to break down a dam I hadn't thought of in a long time. Memories of blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a baby-faced frat boy flashed before my mind's eye. "Good one," I admitted without raising my head. I said the words, trying to push down the emotions that were ready to bubble up at any moment. Keep it together, Avery; it was a long time ago.

"That sounds like there's a story," Dean commented, detecting the sudden change in my tone. I snapped up to find his green eyes staring at me intently.

Before I could tell him to piss off, Sam spoke. "That face says it too."

The anger seemed to dissipate out of me as the boys' pleading faces looked up at me, a hint of compassion flecking Sam's irises. "Oh, guys, come on," I begged, suddenly far more vulnerable than I was comfortable with.

"C'mon, tell us," Sam begged, giving me a pitiful pair of puppy dog eyes.

"You've been spilling information this whole time," Dean complained at the same time. "Don't cut us off now."

I crinkled my nose at the truth; I had been baring my soul to them the last few hours. And if I knew them, they weren't going to just drop the subject. Maybe I could satisfy them with vague details. I mean, I was supposed to be over it; wasn't I? "There was this guy in college, okay?" I admitted, hoping that would pacify them.

"Name," Dean insisted, his eyes clear as he continued to stare. He surely wasn't going to let me off the hook so easily.

I breathed an irritated sigh through my nose, directing the noise at him. "His name was Kyle," I said after a moment. As soon as the name left my lips, I had to blink back a fresh wave of tears. Time heals all wounds, my ass, I thought as emotions continued to well up in my chest. It had been two, no, nearly three years ago. "And he was my best friend." The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, shattered nostalgia choking my throat.

"So, what happened?" Sam asked innocently. I smiled sadly as he batted his lashes, a childish look gleaming in his doe brown eyes. What pain did this sweet summer child know? Had he ever lost the love of his life? Sure, we were the same age; but he never let on to the tragedies in his life. Why should I burden him with my sorrow? Perhaps he could learn from it and avoid my mistakes.

"I was stupid is what happened," I snapped bitterly. "Very first class of freshman year, this dude comes in late and the only seat open is right next to me, right? So, he sits down and just starts babbling about this crazy party he went to the night before."

I remembered it like it had happened yesterday. Awkward, twenty pounds heavier, freshman me sitting in the back of a three hundred seat auditorium for Chemistry I. Everyone was there for the first day of class, so it was no exaggeration that the only empty seat had been to my left. He had barged in the back doors with a loud clank, warranting a sharp look from the professor that had made him quickly dive into his seat. He had introduced himself with a warm smile and a hand extended in my direction. His voice was deep with a playful undertone that matched the goofy grin he always wore. Vivid amber eyes outlined by numerous laugh lines hidden under a tangle of blonde hair that poked through his backwards ball cap. A light dusting of freckles ran across the bridge of his nose, nearly blending in to his suntanned complexion. I had barely managed to mumble my name, wondering what had possessed me to take his hand.

"I didn't say much back, but the next class he comes and purposefully sits next to me again. And I don't know; we just kinda clicked. After I warmed up to him of course. He took this shy, quiet, awkward, overweight girl under his wing like it was his personal mission to help me enjoy life. He invited me places to hang out and took me to parties. Anywhere he went, he dragged me along." It hadn't mattered who was going to be there or what other people said. He simply wouldn't take no for an answer. I'd lost count of the number of fights he had gotten into because someone spoke ill of me attending.

"You fell in love," Dean pointed out, interrupting my thoughts, as if it were some cliché romance novel he had guessed the ending to. Perhaps the story was a tad cliché, but it hadn't felt that way living it.

"Yeah, I did," I admitted, embarrassed and angered by my younger self. "I fell in love with him. And thinking he'd never like the chubby girl, I dropped three dress sizes and twenty pounds in a semester. So, what does he do? Goes and gets a blonde little girlfriend. I guess I should have taken the hint; but no, I stuck with him, hoping he'd come to his senses and leave her. He proposed our senior year and I haven't spoken to him since graduation. He's somewhere in Texas, I think, with a cute little wife and probably a baby or two." Inwardly, I seethed with anger, but my broken heart couldn't handle the painful memories. A lonely tear tickled down my cheek, followed by two more. Hey, this is so not keeping it together. Water under the bridge, right? Breathe; just breathe. "You win, Sam," I whispered into the silence that had fallen over the car.

I carefully wiped the wetness from my face as his mouth worked wordlessly. "Avery," he finally managed, "I'm-"

"Don't be." I cut him off before he could apologize. He hadn't coerced me; I had told them freely. "I was just a stupid girl," I offered with a shrug.

"To hell with him," Dean growled loudly, not bothering to look at me as he turned back to the front of the car. "And you deserve better," he insisted with a swift nod. "Guy who don't know what he has doesn't deserve to keep it anyways."

Sam gave me a soft smile as his brother spoke, adding the emotion that Dean was incapable of expressing. The words were meant to make me feel better and I would be lying if I said they didn't. Dean truly cared about people, even if he had his own special way of showing it. Something about the tone of his voice said that he believed the things he spoke. So, what did that say about Mr. One-Night Stand? He was an incredibly complex character hidden behind candy apple green eyes that revealed nothing he didn't want them to. Despite that, I had a budding theory he was truly a teddy bear underneath that rugged exterior.

"Nine o'clock, kiddos," Dean said as he clicked off the Impala's engine. "Getcha game face on."


	8. Haunted Asylum Chapter 4

My heart began to beat wildly inside my chest as we dug through the trunk for anything we might need. My knife was tucked safely inside my waistline, but the silver was going to be no match for a spirit. It was more of a security item for me, having hardly left my side since I'd left home. Crowbars, flashlights, rock salt, a lighter, and Dean's sawed-off shotgun were all tossed inside an extremely faded green duffel bag that Sam tossed over his shoulder.

I followed the brothers as we trekked through a small field, butterflies growing in my stomach with each step. We made our way to a portion of the sanitarium's fence adjacent to the side of the building, far from where the stationed guards might see us. I gawked at the nine-foot-tall iron barred fence as Sam passed the bag through the rods, so it was waiting for us on the other side. He placed his booted foot on the solitary rung near the ground, hoisting himself effortlessly over the top. He grinned breathlessly as he dropped, absorbing the shock as he bent his knees.

I let out a disbelieving sigh as Dean started to follow suit. "What the hell am I supposed to do? Grow wings and fly?" I squeaked, pleading with Sam through the fence.

"You didn't even try, you baby," Dean complained grumpily, standing on the fence above me.

To prove my point, I stood on the rung and reached up on my tiptoes as high as I could go. My fingertips brushed nothing but air, nowhere close to the top rung where I could grab and pull myself up. Plus, that would require me possessing enough upper body strength to do a pull up. Dean pursed his lips in annoyance and I even jumped, trying to grab the bar. The toe of my boot was the only thing to land on the low set rung, causing me to teeter over backwards. I barely caught myself, throwing my arms wildly while Sam tried to stifle his laughter.

"Come on," Dean said, rolling his eyes as he dropped to the ground. He interlaced his fingers, providing a perfect crevice for me to place my foot. I steadied myself with my hands on his shoulders as he struggled to stand while lifting me. "A little higher- Then push off- Okay?" he panted underneath me. I nodded, though I doubt he saw considering my hair was clouding his vision. He grunted as he raised his hands to the level of his chest and I couldn't help but giggle as I shakily rose through the air. I pushed off as hard as I could, launching myself the rest of the way.

Thankfully, and much to my surprise, my hands clasped around the metal fence. A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I tried not to think of what would've happened if that hadn't worked. I pushed my arms against the bar, struggling to get one of my legs over the top. I succeeded, taking a short breather while sitting on the fence with both my legs dangling over the edge. Sam playfully grabbed my ankles, threatening to pull me off my perch. I gave him a menacing look and he desisted, instead holding out his arms to catch me. I held my breath and said a prayer, hoping he wouldn't drop me. I braced myself on his shoulders as he caught and set me safely on the ground as if I weighed no more than a feather.

"Munchkin," he teased with a grin as Dean dropped down beside us. I rammed my shoulder into his side, meaning to push him over though he barely moved an inch.

"Be serious, you two," Dean snapped, "we've got a job to do." He slung the duffel over his shoulder as he strode toward the sanitorium.

To simply say Waverly was creepier at night was a vast understatement. The shadows that covered the building now seemed purely sinister and I knew without a doubt we were being watched by something otherworldly. Shivers raked my body as we walked closer to its imposing presence. We planned to break into a side door connected directly to the stairwell. That way we had a straight shot to the fifth floor and never had to risk being seen. Dean's tour guide had assured him that the building had no alarms; but I balanced on the balls of my feet, ready to run at the slightest sound, as Sam picked the lock.

Once inside, I had a crowbar and flashlight roughly shoved into my hands. Surely Dean noticed my shaking as he asked, "So, are you scared?" with a crooked smile.

"No," I said a little too quickly, trying to sound brave. My quivering voice betrayed me. "No, not at all," I said again, willing my voice to stay steady with a deep breath. The boys glanced at each other before looking back at me.

"Well, that's good," the older Winchester said, throwing back his shoulders in a ready fashion. "Cause there's a pretty scary looking ghost standing right behind you."

I screamed too loud to notice his grin, dropping everything in my hands as I did my best to climb up Sam. The crowbar clattered loudly on the ground as Dean bent over to pick it up, both boys laughing heartily. It took me a moment to realize I was the butt of their joke before I viciously snatched the iron out of his hands, scowling. He placed a hand on my head to ruffle my hair, finding my expression just as comical as the reaction.

"You guys suck," I grumbled, having to get down on all fours to see where the flashlight had rolled. It was propped against the far wall, held in place by a thick mess of cobwebs that I wiped off on my jeans.

When they stopped chuckling, a serious expression settled upon Dean's face. I recognized it as his _business_ look, reserved solely for the supernatural and meaning he wasn't to be trifled with. The game plan was to canvas each level of the building until we found our murderous apparition. The three of us walked side by side down the hall, weapons at the ready. The tension was almost palpable as we cleared each room we passed.

We turned around a blind corner on the first floor when I felt the chill in the air. I was about to comment on my visible breath when a wispy grey figure appeared in front of me. My mouth opened to let loose a scream, but the brothers were quicker. They each clamped a massive hand over my face to stop the noise.

"It's just a death echo," Dean hissed in my ear.

"Totally harmless," Sam added softly, hoping to ease my fear.

Even as they said so, I was ogling at the ghost only a few inches from me. It looked to be a decaying, middle aged man who flickered in the air the more I stared. He made an awful hacking sound as he pulled a white robe tighter around his thin body and turned to shuffle into the room on our left. With one last violent cough, he disappeared just as quickly as he had arrived. Several other death echoes took his place, sitting in invisible rocking chairs that lined the wall.

"What happened to them?" I barely managed to squeak, pulling at the hands covering my mouth. We were watching their last moments occur repeatedly, and they seemed to be in such horrible pain. It honestly broke my heart that there was no way for us to put them at rest.

Sam sighed deeply from behind me before answering. "This place was a tuberculosis hospital back when no one knew how to treat it." His voice was strained as he peered over me to see into the room.

"Death echoes aren't killing people. Let's keep moving," Dean said, already moving down the hall without us.

The first three floors went by without incident, holding nothing but more death echoes. Several were grotesque and the noise they made haunting, but they were harmless nonetheless. I still jumped when they would magically appear in front of me. The only other time I nearly screamed was when one of the echoes glided straight through me. I wasn't paying attention to what was in front of me; and before I knew it the pale ghost was passing out my back, drawing all my body's warmth with it. I shuddered heavily from the sudden chill and discomfort, stomping my feet in place a few times which made the guys chuckle.

"Wait; did you hear that?" Dean asked, holding a hand up to silence us.

"Yeah, it was me, dummy," I said, still shivering from the cold of the death echo.

"No," he snapped at me with narrowed eyes. "Not you-"

"That," Sam said, cutting him off and suddenly on high alert.

This time I heard the noise they were referring to, a low creaking of the floor coming from the other side of a closed door to our left. It sounded like the shifting of weight on old wooden planks and I tried to assure myself it was nothing but rats. As I gripped my crowbar tighter, I nearly laughed at my pitiful excuse. I'm surrounded by ghosts and think it's something as simple as mice.

Even as I tried not to guess what else it might be, a loud explosion shook the section of the hallway we were in. The door concealing the noise burst open wide, clipping my shoulder and completely knocking Sam over. He stumbled backwards into me, dragging both of us down in a tangle of limbs and flannel. I heard Dean shout as I moved one of Sam's legs, trying to avoid getting kicked in the head by a massive foot, only catching a glimpse of his backside as he raced into the stairwell.

Untangling myself was easier said than done, but somehow we managed and hurried after Dean. His boots echoed as he clattered up the flight above us until it stopped and sounded like he was struggling with something. Sam and I quickened our steps, afraid he was fighting a ghost by himself and sorely losing. I stopped dead in my tracks when I reached the top level to see Dean holding-

"A kid?" I stuttered in shock. Sure enough, Dean had a teenage boy by the collar, holding him firmly against the wall. He couldn't have been more than sixteen with a shock of red hair swooped across his forehead and wearing a letterman jacket. His build suggested football and he reminded me of a member of the latest craze boyband. His stark white face also said he was terrified beyond reason even as he struggled against Dean's iron grip.

"Let go of me!" he squealed, voice cracking. "Who are you people?"

"FBI," I answered without thinking, pulling my badge out of my inside jacket pocket for him to see. I heard Sam shuffle behind me as he flashed his fake I.D. too.

The kid's eyes grew wide as he thought of the trouble he was surely in, but a small glimmer said that he didn't quite believe us. "No way. What're feds doing here; and carrying crowbars?" He was now eyeing us suspiciously as he leaned away from Dean's scowl.

Sam was quick to think of an excuse that might sound believable. "They called us in due to a high number of trespassers," he said, looking down his nose at the boy as he stashed his badge.

"You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?" Dean threatened, picking the boy up off his feet.

The kid looked ready to wet himself and I could see Dean was pissed at having to waste time, so I stepped in. "Why don't we put him down and just be civil, yeah?" I suggested, resting a hand lightly on Dean's shoulder and hoping he listened to me.

"Tell us how you got in," he told the boy while glaring, "and I'll think about it."

I nodded when the kid looked to me for help, thinking me the sensible one. "There- there's a broken board on one of the first-floor windows you- you can crawl through. Every- everyone knows that."

"Everyone knows that," Dean mimicked, releasing his collar and setting him down roughly. The kid popped his shirt to look tough but thought better of it as he sized up the Winchester brothers. Dean had his arms crossed in irritation while Sam looked as if he were trying to solve a complex math equation in his head.

"So, what's your name?" I asked the kid, trying to dissipate the unfriendly masculine atmosphere.

He eyed me warily but answered anyways. "Evan Zimmerman," he said, ducking his head instead of meeting my gaze.

"What are you doing here, Zimmerman?" Sam questioned, a mixture of concern and worry still on his face. Evan mumbled something incoherent in response, the tips of his ears turning a similar color to his hair. Dean and I glanced at each other to make sure we heard him right.

"You're hiding out in the world's most haunted place, at night, for some girl?" Dean scoffed at the kid, still not seeming to believe it.

"She's not just some girl!" Evan protested, balling his fists at his side. "She's the most beautiful senior at school." As he said that, the three of us groaned, knowing immediately what happened here.

"You got stood up, man," Sam said sympathetically, clapping him lightly on the shoulder.

Evan's face flushed with anger as he shrugged out from underneath Sam. "Did not. She's just late is all." My heart kind of broke for the kid because even he didn't seem to believe the lie. "She might be there right now and I'm not."

"I don't think so." Dean sounded bored as he grabbed Evan's collar as the boy tried to take off down the stairwell. "You're coming with us," he said, heaving the duffel bag higher up his shoulder, ready to leave.

Sam instantly started protesting, claiming they couldn't endanger an innocent kid. But Dean was fast to quip back, stating that he didn't think there was a case here after all and he was not about to leave the kid to have a heart attack over a death echo. At the mention of the echo, Evan threw his voice into the mix, wanting to know who exactly these crazy people were. I sighed heavily, not wanting to pick sides or get in the middle of this right now. I was almost at my limit as their voices reached new levels, until the already cold temperature in the building dropped another ten degrees.

"Guys," I said, trying to get their attention as I stared down the fifth-floor hallway. It took two more times before they even noticed, turning to me with an exacerbated _what._ "Look," and I pointed down the hall. Moments before there had been dozens of death echoes waltzing around. In a second, they all disappeared simultaneously.

"Decided to show up after all, did she?" Dean said, a lusty grin creeping up his face as he gazed down the empty hall. My pulse quickened as ice crystals hung in the air in front of my face. "New plan," he said hastily, checking the number of shells in his shotgun, "Sam with me. Avery, watch our six with the kid. Let's go."

He didn't wait for a response from anyone, assuming we wouldn't back talk, already setting off down the corridor. Evan was visibly shaking and trying to edge down the stairs again. I shook my head and grabbed his jacket, pushing him to walk in front of me. He gave me a pouty frown, but thankfully fell in step beside me.

Dean and Sam worked like a well-oiled machine, walking side by side as they checked each room. The air turned colder and the atmosphere dank as we crept closer to room 502. The sound of scurrying rats grew louder, sending shivers down my back. But there was no choice except to go forward. I constantly swiveled my head to check behind me, only to see nothing.

We rounded the last corner, the far stairwell finally within sight. Even as I breathed a shallow sigh of relief, I caught the flicker out of the corner of my eye. "Behind you!" I shouted at Dean, before I even know what I was looking at.

A translucent, decaying woman in rags with a violent expression on her face came flying through a wall, separating the boys from me and Evan. She screeched in anger as I gave her away, batting the Winchesters toward the exit with a throw of her hand. They slammed into the wall heavily, weapons scattering. The ghost turned her attention to me, soaring through the air at neck-breaking speed. I nearly dropped my crowbar until I remembered the piece of iron in my hand. Using both hands, I swung it in an upwards arc, slashing through her torso. She dissipated into the air, only inches from my face.

"Y'all okay?" I yelled, eyeing Evan first and then the boys. Evan's eyes were wide as saucers and Dean was out cold, but Sam managed to grumble some semblance of an answer at me.

I took a step toward them, fully intending to help; but something stopped me. Instead of going forward, I was thrown backwards. My head collided violently with something hard that quickly stopped my momentum. My vision instantly went dark as I struggled to comprehend what just happened. I could hear grunting coupled with a high-pitched squeal, but it seemed so far away. _Come on_ , I thought to myself, knowing my life was possibly in danger. It took a few seconds more to realize my brain was addled by a concussion.

The more I blinked, the more my vision began to clear. Everything was a blurry mess and down the hall I could see two large dark blobs struggling against a bright form. I gritted my teeth as I pushed against the wall to raise myself off the floor. I fought the urge to vomit as a hand went to the back of my head, a large knot already forming. I stood slowly, wanting the room to stop its spinning. My knees tried locking just when I thought I had found my balance, but I managed to stay upright.

Letting a shallow breath out through my mouth, I turned toward the continuing scuffle. Dean was conscious and currently attempting to reload his shotgun while Sam defended them. The apparition was heaving anything she could find at them, even pulling a nearby door off its hinges. There wasn't much Sam could do to stop it. He tried to brace against the heavy weight, but the ghost was stronger. It pinned both boys against the closed doors of the stairwell, leaving them defenseless. Fighting my concussion, I tried quickly looking for a weapon. There were none to be found and the boys were running out of time.

"Mary!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, wondering what the hell was I doing. A distraction at best, it did the job. The violent woman whirled around, locking me in her sights. Thank god for that stupid tour guide who had guessed the name correctly. I shut my eyes as I continued to talk, not wanting to see the aftermath if this didn't work. "I know what he did to you," I said rapidly, tripping over the words. "What they did to you!" I corrected when I heard her screech.

I counted to five in my head, waiting for whatever pain might be coming. And when nothing happened, I slowly opened one eyelid. She was hovering a few feet in front of me, hands reaching out. Her fingers were spasming as if she wanted to claw my eyes out but couldn't. Her head swiveled sharply, twisting at angles that were inhuman. She was honestly more frightening like this, making my mouth feel like it had been stuffed with cotton.

The sheer terror managed to sweep some of the confusion out of my head. I had to keep talking before she decided to snap my neck. "He- he- he said he loved you, didn't he?" She hissed when I mentioned him, causing me to jump slightly. "And when you- you got pregnant, he did- didn't keep his word."

She began to shriek again, but the noise was cut off. In the blink of an eye, the decaying façade faded away to reveal a petite blonde dressed in an antique nursing uniform. She stood quietly in front of me now, hands folded together over a swollen belly, with a confused expression on her pale white face.

Her mouth worked for a moment before she spoke. "He… lied," she said in a slow, rasping voice.

I nodded, hoping I wouldn't say the wrong thing to set her off again. "I know he did. So, he tried to cover up his mistake. Except you wouldn't let him; and he killed you for it. Got the doctors to help, strung you up in the rafters, and kicked the chair out beneath you."

Her face scrunched in anger, the glistening tear giving away the pain she was trying to conceal. "Murderers," she snarled, hands clenching tighter.

She was furious, and she had every right to be. The love of her life had thrown her out like she was nothing more than garbage. And he'd taken an innocent life too. Trapped in the building for eternity, she was lashing out at anyone she could. Wait; had all her victims been men? What I remembered of the case file confirmed my budding theory.

"Killing us won't fix what he did. Let me help you." I tried appealing to her as a fellow woman; a woman who'd had her heart broken. Maybe she'd listen. "If you let us go, we can give you peace." I looked over her shoulder at the trapped Winchesters, who were in utter shock. She cocked her head at me to meet my gaze. I dropped my eyes to where her hands curled protectively around her baby bump. "Don't you want to be with her? Forever? Don't let him continue to control you."

I saw her jaw clench, gritting teeth, and for a moment I thought I'd gone too far. Instead, the door pinning the boys fell loudly to the floor and they stumbled backwards when the stairwell opened too. "Leave," she croaked. "Now."

I nodded hurriedly at the boys, already walking briskly toward them. Sam had an arm outstretched to me while Dean scrambled to grab our things. I was following Dean out of the hallway, Sam's large hand on my back, when I heard a voice.

"Hey guys! Wait for me!" Who-? Oh, shit, Evan! I whirled around to see the red headed boy running down the hall after us. I had completely forgotten about him in the confusion. He must have gotten flung further away when I was slammed into the wall.

"No!" I shouted, too little too late. Sweet innocent Mary transformed back into the furious decaying apparition she was, but not before she mouthed something at me. She slammed heavily into the kid, knocking his breath away. His scream mixed with the ghost's as she pushed him through the open door of room 502. I heard glass shatter as I tried to run after him.

Someone yelled at me that we had to go now, taking my hand and pulling me along after them. Someone else herded me from behind, saying to go faster. We exploded out the same side door we had entered the loathsome building through. I nearly bit the dust when my feet hit grass, but Sam yanked me upright before I fell. Everything moved in slow motion as I jerked my head toward the front of the building. The glow of flashlights bobbed against the brick until one spotlight landed on a mangled corpse lying on the ground.

I jerked my face away, not able to bear the sight. Instead, I let Dean continue to pull me across the field. Neither brother wasted any time in helping me climb the fence, throwing themselves over it just as swiftly. Dean peeled out in the Impala before I even had my door shut. He didn't stop until we were back at the motel and positive no one had followed us.

None of us moved as the engine clicked off. We all sighed collectively and leaned heavily against the leather seats. I wasn't sure what to think or say, all too aware of the thrumming inside my skull from the concussion. A full minute passed in silence before Dean struck the steering wheel with his fist.

"Dammit!" he cursed, striking it again in his frustration. "All of that for nothing!"

"Not for nothing," I said quietly, grasping at the words on the tip of my tongue.

"No?" he asked angrily, turning in his seat to lecture me. "We barely got out of there with our lives and we can't even salt and burn her!"

Salt and burn? We needed a grave to do that. But I knew where she was buried, didn't I? It was what she had tried to tell me before she murdered Evan. "Meadow View," I mumbled to myself.

Dean threw up his hands in defeat with a scoff. "Oh great! She's got a friggin' concussion," he said vehemently. I scowled at him, not liking the tone of his voice.

Sam's head popped up from where it was leaned over the glow of his cellphone, sending his hair flying. "No-"

"Yes," his brother insisted.

"Maybe!" Sam said over him to make sure he was heard. "Meadow View is a cemetery not far from here. But how did you know?"

Both brothers were now looking at me like I had suddenly grown a third eye. "She told me," I said simply, shrugging.

"Yeah, speaking of talking with ghosts, how the hell d'you know that'd work?" Dean asked, eyes narrowed.

"This one story just really stuck out to me when I was researching the case last night. It was written by a medium who claimed to have spoken with Mary. Said it was murder instead of suicide. I guess she's a real medium since Mary didn't, you know-"

"Kill us?" Dean offered sarcastically. Of course, he wasn't happy about my methods, but he couldn't argue with the results. He gave a sigh, shaking his head. "Since we're here, we might as well pack up and hit the cemetery on the way out." He checked the watch on his wrist before saying, "Doubt anyone'll be back in that building before dawn, so we've got a few minutes to spare."

True to his word, we packed what few belongings we had and hightailed it to Meadow View Cemetery. Everyone flinched when we heard sirens blare down the road as we broke into the graveyard. Thankfully they kept going, probably on the way to Waverly Hills. We found Mary buried in a modest grave with a small headstone. The dates matched our ghost close enough for us to begin digging.

As dawn peaked through the tree line, Sam helped pull me from the dirt hole we had dug. Dean let me do the honors, saying it was only right being my first hunt and all. As the flames consumed Mary's bones, I imagined her finally at peace with the child she had lost. But the harder I tried to envision it, the more I saw Evan's lifeless mangled body lying alone on the hard ground. We'd promised to protect him and failed miserably. A single tear slipped down my cheek that I quickly brushed away. I doubted I would forget his face as long as I lived.

The flames morbidly warmed the cold air as Sam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. It was a comforting gesture that I leaned into, reaching my hand up to rest on his. Dean clapped my back before starting to walk off. "Nice job, short stuff," was all he said.

"Where do we go now?" I called after him, turning with the giant beside me.

"Sioux Falls."


	9. Home Sweet Home Chapter 1

The rusted metal sign arched low over the road, an inhospitable welcome to any cars passing through it. Haphazard letters of different fonts spelled out Singer Auto Salvage in faded red paint. Decrepit cars piled sky high lined the dirt road as we drove toward a two-story house that had seen better days. Dean parked the Impala in a car free area beside a small porch with once-white railing. Dust settled around me as we stepped out of the car. We were instantly greeted by fierce barking coming from a separate part of the yard. Sam and Dean visibly cringed at the noise.

"Puppy!" I squealed, dropping to my knees. A thick set rottweiler with tan point came barreling around the side of the house. He made a point to snap at Sam before barreling into me. I fell over into the dirt as he placed his paws on my shoulders. His giant tongue licked my face, sending loose a peal of laughter from my mouth.

"What the actual heck?" Dean asked, equal parts of shock and contempt seeping into his voice. "That dog hates everyone." I couldn't see his face over the Impala, but I could imagine his pouty frown.

"But he's such a sweetie!" I insisted, giggling. The dog had rolled over on the ground and was enjoying having his belly rubbed. He whined happily, his tongue lolling out of his open mouth. "What's his name?" I hadn't interacted with anything furry in weeks and it was making my day. I had no idea where we were, but I was absolutely in love with the fluffball in my lap.

"Rumsfeld," Sam told me. He was grinning goofily as he watched me play with the dog, though he made no attempt to join in.

"Get over here, ya idjit," a gruff voice called. Rumsfeld scrambled to turn his body upright before loping back towards the house. He leapt on top of an ancient truck, laying himself down on the rusty hood. I stood up out of the dirt to see a sour man with a scraggly red-brown beard stomping down the porch steps. He wore a tattered puffer vest over a thick flannel shirt that bulged over a beer gut. A beat-up trucker hat that used to be blue and white sat low on his forehead, obscuring a receding hairline. His set-in frown only deepened when he saw me. "I thought I told ya I wasn't running no finishing school for misguided girls," he snapped at Dean. His fierce gaze made me want to shrink back behind the Impala and hide.

"Hey to you too, Bobby," the older Winchester said, acting as if he hadn't heard the comment. The two men clapped each other on the back in a familial manner as Dean stepped up to him.

"Hey Bobby," Sam said as he mimicked the same gesture. The old man's eyes crinkled at the corners as if he were smiling underneath that irritable exterior as he embraced the two boys. The look instantly disappeared when his eyes returned to me.

"Now wait just a minute. I'm not misguided!" I snapped, offended and confused at the wary eye Bobby was giving me. Dean stood silently beside him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. My eyes widened suddenly as I realized what was going on. I whirled on Dean, angrily pointing my finger at him. "Dean Winchester, you better not be planning on leaving me here at this dump!" He gave me a weak smile, as if he hadn't planned on me figuring out his plan so quick. My jaw fell open as I gasped, astounded. Bobby snorted beside Dean and I winced. "No offense?" I told him, crinkling my nose in embarrassment. Not that I had accepted the fact that they were ditching me here, but best not to offend the guy.

"None taken," he shrugged heavily. "You didn't tell me she was such a firecracker." He bumped Dean with his elbow, chuckling to himself as he watched me fume. "Bobby Singer," he said, offering me a large calloused hand. The frown had yet to leave his hard face, but he looked on me with softer blue-grey eyes.

I tentatively took his outreached hand which he gave a hearty shake. "Avery King." I offered my name quietly, intimidated by his presence.

"How'd you end up with these two idjits?" he asked, jerking his thumb to the boys standing behind him.

I bit my lip before answering, trying to think of where to begin. 'Hi, we've just met, but here's my tragic backstory' wasn't always a great first impression. "Ah, well, it's a bit of a long story," I told him instead, waiting to see if he would pry.

"One she can tell you later," Dean stepped in, placing his hands on my shoulder blades and pointing me toward the Impala. "But we've got places to be." Sam gave his brother a puzzled look before being snapped at. "Sammy, go tell Bobby about your haunted house fetish or something." He was about to protest, but the older gentleman patted his back while turning him toward the house.

"I can't believe you," I shouted at Dean as soon as the others were out of earshot. "This was so not our deal!" I stormed after him as he opened the trunk, rummaging around in it. "You can't just leave me here!"

"Watch me," was all he said, not even bothering to look at me as he said it. His tone was flat, devoid of emotion. My ears felt like they were burning from the heat of my anger.

"Bastard," I growled, punching his arm as hard as I could. He spun to face me, and I pushed against his chest repeatedly. "Take- me- with- you-," I demanded, hitting him as I said each word. I was too furious to think, the pain in my knuckles the only thing that made sense. It churned my blood, adding to my fury.

"Stop it!" he roared, growing tired of being my punching bag. He aggressively grabbed my wrists, holding them tight in the air. "Bobby is good people and you'll be safe here! I can't have you ending up like that stupid kid!" Heat crawled up the side of his neck as he berated me, his tone matching my own.

I cringed, recalling Evan's dead body on the ground outside the sanatorium. "He had a name," I snarled.

Dean's nose flared in irritation as he answered me. "Yeah, and now he's just a name in an obituary." I opened my mouth to keep arguing with him, my anger fueling me on. "I don't wanna lose you!" he shouted over me, his face dangerously close to mine. The tone of his voice was terrifying and sent me trembling. He was livid; more so than I'd ever seen him. But behind the fierceness of his eyes, I thought I saw pain and concern. He drew a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes as he did. "Look, I just couldn't forgive myself if you got hurt, alright? Stay here and let Bobby train you. And when you're ready, you can come back on the road with me and Sammy. Okay?"

I shrugged my wrists out of his grasp, crossing my arms as I thought. He was practically pleading with me. And he was right. I desperately didn't want to admit it, but he was. I wasn't good to anyone dead. I couldn't avenge my family if my skull was caved in by a monster or I was laid up on a funeral pyre. Dean's admission of caring helped cool my rage at being left behind. I rolled my eyes, sighing, trying to give off an indifferent air I didn't feel. He raised his eyebrows, waiting patiently. "Fine," I conceded after several moments, dropping my arms to my sides.

He released the breath he had been holding loudly, his chest dropping with the effort. Whatever he had been searching for in the trunk earlier, he now removed. "Take this." He roughly shoved a cellphone into my hand, shutting the trunk with one swift move. It was a simple flip phone with a few scratches etched on the front. If I had to guess, it was one of his old burner phones. "Come on; get your stuff," he told me while I stared at the phone in confusion.

"But-" I tried to ask as I grabbed my duffel from the backseat. He'd denied giving me one when I had first gone on the road with them, claiming there was no reason to buy me one. Though I had been able to talk him into getting me an iPod instead. Why now?

He walked ahead of me to where Sam and Bobby stood, talking as he did. "I already put both our numbers in it in case you need something. Sam, say your goodbyes," he instructed, switching places with his brother to speak with Bobby. It was obvious I had wasted all his good graces and there would be no more arguing with him today. I did my best to curb my tongue, already ashamed for the way I had yelled at him.

Sam awkwardly stood beside me, sweeping a quick hand through his hair. "Are you going to be alright here?" he asked, sympathy riddling his voice.

I feigned confidence, not wanting to worry his tender heart. He was not his brother, instead wearing his heart on his sleeve. Maybe that's why we got along so well. "Yeah, of course. I'm strong, remember?" I beamed up at him, flexing my bicep to coax a laugh out of him.

"Yeah, alright, munchkin," he chuckled, nibbling on his lip. The nervous tick told me he didn't necessarily agree with his brother's decision. I didn't want him to worry about me. He would need to keep his head about him on hunts, or he'd lose it.

"What am I going to do without you, Sam?" I teased him, trying again to lighten the mood.

He guffawed at the jest. "Probably have a lot of boring conversations," he said, a small smile pulling at his lips. Dean hollered at his brother, telling him to get his ass in the car before he left him there with me.

"You better call me, Winchester," I shouted after Sam as he jogged to the Impala. His long hair bobbed with each step, making me smile. I was going to miss that gangly moose the most.

"Every week," he promised. He was grinning broadly as he folded his giant form into the car.

Dean looked at me over the top of his door, searching my eyes for something he wouldn't find. I met his gaze firmly with one of my own. He broke first. "Take care, short stuff," he said, climbing into the driver seat without looking back.

"Goodbye, Dean," I said softly. I knew he couldn't hear me over the sweet sound of the engine, but it didn't matter. I watched the dust settle before I turned around to find Bobby waiting for me. His arms were loosely crossed over his barrel chest. I picked up the bag at my feet, scrunching my mouth uncertainly. "Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Singer," I mumbled after a small moment of silence when he said nothing.

Bobby simply shook his head at me, a strange look in his eye. "Mr. Singer's my father and he's been dead the last forty years. Just call me Bobby."

"Okay… Bobby." I said the name tentatively, unsure of myself.

"Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the door in a friendly manner. He held it open behind him for me to follow him inside. "So how about that story now?"


	10. Home Sweet Home Chapter 2

Five thirty came too soon every morning I thought as I rolled over to smack the obnoxious alarm clock on the bedside table. Bobby had demanded I be up before the sun or I wasn't worth training. One morning he had even gone so far as to dump a bucket of cold water on me when I had accidentally hit the snooze button. It wasn't any easier to get up so early, but I had learned to force myself out of bed without falling back asleep. It was strictly muscle memory at this point. I rolled to a sitting position with a groan, stretching my arms over my head. The gesture popped my back, giving me a small sense of relief before my bare feet hit the cold wooden floor. I rocked up on my toes, inhaling sharply at the sensation. Bleary eyed, I opened the door to my room and began stumbling down the hallway.

Nine months ago, I had knocked over nearly every stack of books lining the halls and pulled more than one of the decors off the walls. Now I could navigate the maze in the pre-dawn blackness with my eyes closed. I gripped the banister as I rounded the stairs, remembering not so fondly the time I had fallen down them. It had been soon after I had started staying with Bobby and I was still unfamiliar with the old house. Having been awake half the night from nightmares, my alarm sounded even earlier than expected. I managed to avoid all the tomes but turned before I had cleared the top of the stairs. The misstep sent me thundering down the steps, screaming and yelping the whole way. An avalanche of volumes followed my fall, careening around me once I finally stopped. Bobby had burst out of his room, shotgun in tow, almost pumping me full of rock salt.

I shook my head at myself in embarrassment, the heat of a blush creeping up my neck as I flipped the light on in the bathroom. I rubbed at the makeup underneath my eyes before pilling all my hair into a high ponytail. As I took the braided hairband from my wrist and snapped it in place, my eyes caught a glimpse of the dark ink peeking out from underneath my sleep shirt in the mirror. I pulled the fabric away from my collarbone, running my fingers over the semi-new tattoo gently.

It was an anti-possession symbol, a pentagram surrounded by rays, nestled in the curve of my shoulder above my breast. Dean had had the bright idea that we all get the symbol in ink after Sam had showed up on Bobby's doorstep, murderous and possessed. Once I had patched them up, we went to a local artist in Sioux Falls. I was originally going to place it on my hip, but the boys had insisted I match them. Sam had said it because he liked the idea of matching tattoos; Dean because he liked teasing me that I wouldn't take my shirt off. I chuckled, thinking of how large his eyes had swollen when I did, just to shut him up. Thank god I had decided to wear a cute bra that day.

I still wasn't used to the new mark on my skin or the looks I got from people when my shirt didn't cover it completely. The tattoo artist could have cared less and of course Bobby thought it was practical, but they weren't the norm. I caught people openly gawking, not bothering to hide their disdain. The woman at the grocery store checkout always pursed her lips and refused to speak more than a few clipped words to me and the local gothic kids nodded with approval, as if the occult symbol meant something to them. Oh, how I longed for Dean's thick skin. I constantly reminded myself that the newness would wear away. The ink would become a part of me much like a birthmark and I wouldn't think anything strange of it.

With a last quick peek, I left the bathroom to get dressed. I snagged a pair of black Nike shorts hanging on the back of my desk chair and stepped into them. Next, I rummaged through the small chest of drawers for a matching sports bra and athletic tank top. After pulling on my running shoes and grabbing my iPod, I lightly descended the stairs to the kitchen.

Digging through the cabinets while happily munching on a peanut butter protein bar, I started a pot of coffee for Bobby. He would be getting up while I was gone, and I had found that he was more pleasurable during the day if I left him an offering of some kind. The old machine was persnickety and sputtered heavily as if it were coughing, complaining about having to do its job. I thumped the plastic with my middle finger as if the gesture would help. It seemed do the trick because the coffee pot quit its coughing and released a stream of rich black liquid.

Pleased with the product, I quietly slipped out the backdoor. July was hot in South Dakota, but not nearly as much as back home. My early morning runs let me avoid the insufferable heat of the day and I liked seeing the sunrise through the treetops. Rumsfeld was ready for me, already sitting at the bottom of the steps, his entire butt wiggling in delight. I smiled, patting his head as I walked by and shushing him when he yipped gleefully. I stretched to stave of the tightness in my muscles from sleep and popped my earbuds in. Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood was first up on my workout playlist. I grinned at the frisky music, bouncing on my toes for a few beats before taking off. Nothing like a girl power song to get you in the mood for a jog.

Rumsfeld loped besides me, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as we raced for the fence at the back of the property. It was always a race for the happy Rottweiler and I obliged every morning. He would run the first mile with me and stop at the border of his kingdom, willing to remain inside as I slipped through a section of the paneling. I waved goodbye to him, knowing he'd be waiting at the entrance of the drive until I came back.

A worn path cut through the woods that butted up to the fence. It had no doubt once been a game trail, but it traversed the land easier than a road. If I followed it for nearly two miles, it would place me in a quaint cookie cutter neighborhood that I enjoyed running in. I was lucky to see a couple deer most days and had even stumbled upon a massive twelve-point buck one time. As I rounded a blind curve, I startled a flock of turkeys that flew off in a thunderous rustling of feathers that nearly gave me a heart attack. I had to stop for a few moments just to calm my breathing again.

When I emerged from the tree line, the sun was already basking the small houses in warm yellow hues. I plodded down the concrete sidewalk, passing moms with strollers and other joggers out with their furry companions. I flashed a small smile to everyone I passed that wasn't returned, too high on endorphins to care. I even hollered a greeting to Sheriff Mills who was getting ready to climb into her cruiser with a thermos of coffee after kissing her husband goodbye. She returned the greeting with a quick flash of her hand, telling me to have a good run as I passed her driveway.

It wasn't much father past the end of the subdivision before I cut across fields and dirt roads to end back up in front of the rusted-out sign at Bobby's. Rumsfeld barked buoyantly when he caught sight of me trudging down the adjacent dirt road, jumping up and down to catch my attention. We sprinted to the house once more and this time he easily beat me, having enough time to jump on his favorite truck before I made it to the porch. I wearily rubbed his head before tripping up the stairs and into the house.

Bobby was sitting at the table, sipping coffee and pretending to read the newspaper when I walked in. He didn't move as I opened the fridge to grab a bottle of water. "How many miles you runnin' now?" he asked after savoring a long sip.

I chugged my drink before answering, panting lightly. "I don't really keep track anymore," I said, plopping into the chair opposite him. "At least five, I would think, but it might be more. I run for the fun of it now; but you knew that." Running had been an abhorrent chore at first; one I was miserable at. I thought I had been going into cardiac arrest after only one mile. Now I ran until I didn't have any road left.

He gave a snort, barely glancing at me over the top of the paper. I tried to hide my grin at his unorthodox approval as he slid a plate of bacon across the small table. I hungrily grabbed at the crispy meat, munching quietly while he finished reading. For all his grumbling and rough edges, Bobby was more invested than he would ever let on. We had fallen into a routine during my time here that made me feel like family. And this was part of it. I left a pot of coffee on the counter while I was gone, and I came back to find him sitting in that exact spot, reading the paper, with a hot breakfast waiting for me. He would clear his throat when he was done and head to his study to flip through another ancient book he had recently added to his collection. That was my chance to leave and get cleaned up before I was expected to help with research.

After a fast shower and changing into a fresh set of clothes, I made my way to the study. Humming Before He Cheats under my breath, I picked up the book that Bobby had extended towards me. I curled up on the bench seat under the large exterior window, letting the sunlight warm me from the chill of the drafty house. My designated tome was easily several hundred years old, the once red cover now closer to faded mahogany. I shivered as I touched the first page, realizing only human skin felt this way. Of course, a book on angelic deities would be made from this disgusting material.

I wasn't even sure why he was having me read this. Every hunter knew angels weren't real. Maybe it'll mention a pagan deity that someone needs more lore on. The old English text threatened to lull me to sleep as it droned on about every archangel in heaven. Michael, Lucifer, Gabriel, and dozens of names I had never heard before were described in excruciating detail. The only reprieve was a handful of beautifully rendered illustrations dispersed throughout the book. A true artist had drawn every angel in their full glory, incredible detail etched into each lifelike image. The curve of their bodies, beautifully rendered veining, and perfect shading made me wonder if they weren't somehow taken with a camera. I spent the majority of my time delicately fingering the raised edges of the artwork, wishing I was half as good as this person.

Chair legs scraping across the floor snapped me out of drooling over the images. I glanced over my shoulder to see Bobby standing, snapping his book closed. Damn, he's a fast reader, I thought as I watched him place it on a nearby tower of other volumes. And I wasn't even halfway through mine. Just another to add to my list of things to finish reading later.

I swung my legs off the bench, rolling my neck as I did. My eyes sought the clock on the wall over the doorway. Had it really been three hours already? The lengthening shadows inside the house confirmed the time. In my trek back to reality, I realized Bobby had left me behind in the room. I scrambled off my perch as fast as my short legs would take me, stopping only long enough to pull on my boots that were sitting by the stairs. I clambered down the steps that led to the cellar underneath the house. In my haste, my foot slipped on a loose board I never seemed to remember was there. I yelped in surprise as I skated down a few steps before regaining my balance with the help of the banister.

"Can't ya go anywhere without making a racket?" Bobby grumbled as I finally hit the floor. I grinned sheepishly at his hidden jest, starting to apologize. He stopped me with a shake of his head, eyes rolling behind heavy lids. "Bring me that drill and bag of nails, would ya?" was what he said instead, pointing across the room to his hardware table.

I had to dig my way around paper blueprints, various tools, and a copious amount of sawdust on the tabletop before remembering he hadn't asked for a hammer. Instead, I stood up on my tiptoes to reach an overhead shelf where the electric drill lived. After nearly dropping it on my head and mistaking a bag of rock salt for nails, I turned to see Bobby had moved on without me again.

"What're we building again?" I asked as I brought the supplies to where he was creating a stockpile of metal frames.

"I'm buildin' a panic room," he huffed, dragging a thick piece of metal that was taller than him to the far corner. "You're just free labor. Now hold this here." He butted the sheet metal up against the wall, leaving me to stabilize it as he fixed it in place.

It took every ounce of my strength to keep it from quivering. I gritted my teeth and blew deeply through my nose when the drill sent a quake through the metal that traveled straight into my body. The drilling didn't stop until the piece was firmly secured to the wall and my body was numb from the vibrations.

"One down," I said optimistically, rubbing the feeling back into my hands and thighs.

"Only a dozen more to go," Bobby finished for me. I swore there was a sadistic smile hidden underneath that scraggly beard of his as he went to move the next piece into place.

The panic room was slow work between the two of us and I was no use when it came to heavy lifting. Even Rufus would have been a welcome addition to the project. I was covered in sweat and a thick layer of grime by the time we finished the perimeter frame. Bobby was in worse shape than me, but he seemed determined not to quit. I was just about to beg him for a breather when I heard the phone ring upstairs.

"I'll get it!" I shouted, racing up the stairs before he could tell me no. I heard him complain about my lazy ass as I leapt into the kitchen, skidding to a stop on the tile. All the phones on the wall were quiet except for the one labeled FBI in permanent marker that rattled in its holder as it rang. "FBI, Director Willis' office." I recited the script I had memorized, hoping whoever was on the line didn't question my supposed authority.

"Bobby?" the voice on the other end asked suspiciously. It was a familiar male voice that I couldn't nail down and I found myself hoping it was Dean.

"No…" I said hesitantly. "Who is this?"

"It's Garth. Who is this?" As soon as he said his name, it clicked in my brain. Of course it was that knucklehead. He probably even called the wrong phone again.

I rolled my eyes as I shifted my weight to get comfier next to the phone. "It's me, Garth." I took the awkward silence on the other end of the line as confirmation that he didn't remember me. "You know; Avery?" I prompted him again. His voice exploded into the receiver, loud enough that I had to jerk it away from my ear and wonder if I would have permanent hearing loss. His words ran together as he shouted my name, simultaneously asking how I had been. "I'm doing good, Garth. What about you?"

"Oh, y'know me; can't complain about much." His voice was chipper, and I could imagine the goofy grin on his face. After a brief pause, he asked again. "Well, how've you been?"

I giggled at him through the receiver, a smile on my face. That boy would lose his head if it weren't attached to his shoulders. "You already asked me that; like two seconds ago."

"Oh, yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm just so happy to be talking to you. I feel like it's been forever." I agreed with him even though I vividly remembered speaking with him only a month ago. He was such a happy soul; surely, he became this happy when talking with everyone he knew. "Well, tell me what all dyou've been up to. Heard you took down a werewolf pack recently."

I speculated who could have possibly told him even as I talked. "Uh, yeah; me and Bobby. We got called out to a college town in north Colorado. It was pretty cut and dry; but we skinned about ten total, I think. One of them got me pretty good too-"

Garth gasped so suddenly on the other end of the phone that he cut me off. "You got bit?" he exclaimed, his voice jumping an octave.

"What?" I asked, bewildered. Where did he get that idea? "Oh, no, Garth! I meant one of them clawed me! That's all."

"You sure had me worried there for a second," he said, sounding relieved as he exhaled deeply.

His concern for me warmed my heart, lifting the corners of my mouth into a bashful smile. "I'm sorry," I apologized, glancing down at my feet as if that would stop my embarrassment.

"Don't worry about it," he assured me. "Bet Bobby wasn't very happy that you got hurt, huh?"

"Yeah, hardly," I scoffed, recalling the hunt. "A little female slipped around behind both of us in the thick of it. She would've disemboweled me if I hadn't seen her out of the corner of my eye." My half-step had saved my life, but her claws had carved into my flesh regardless. The scars stretched from my navel down onto my thigh on the left side of my body.

Garth's voice cut through my thoughts and pulled me back to the conversation at hand. "I don't know what it is about their claws, but they cut deep and leave some massive scars," he was saying.

"You don't have to tell me. Bobby gave me some kinda special medicine for it and they still look fresh. I'm just glad most of my shorts cover them." My running shorts barely concealed the scars, with a hint of the pink whelps showing underneath. It had been two weeks since the hunt and I had only removed the sutures a few days ago. The werewolf's claws had seemed to barely scratch me, but the marks were nearly an inch deep. They no doubt would have festered if Bobby hadn't been quick to clean them out. That night had been filled with alcohol, cursing, and endless stitches.

My hand subconsciously slid to my hip where the scars hid under my clothes. A nervous cough filled my ear as Garth shifted his weight. "Well, I'm real glad you're okay, Avery. Wouldn't want anything happening to you or nothing." He paused for a moment before speaking, his light breathing the only sound I could hear. "What'd you think about maybe getting some dinner the next time I'm in town?"

The question caught me so off guard that words tumbled out my mouth before I could stop them. "Like a date?" I heard myself say, a hint of bewilderment in my voice. Oh, no; I probably just crushed his heart like a grape. I liked Garth, I really did; and he was plenty cute. But I just didn't like him romantically. I wasn't sure I liked anyone that way anymore. Hunters didn't have time for dates and boyfriends. Not to mention this wasn't the first time he had asked me out.

"Well, yeah…," he mumbled softly as my thoughts went around in my head.

What could I say without hurting his feelings? And would it really kill me to have dinner with a friend? "I, uh-" I started hesitantly, prepared to turn him down. "You know what? Sure. Next time you're in Sioux Falls." He inhaled sharply, getting ready to shout excitedly. "But just as friends, alright? So, there's no pressure on either of us," I said over him, trying to nip anything he was about to say in the bud. That's called letting a guy down easy, right?

"It works for me," he replied calmly instead. I imagined a silly smile on his face as I gingerly bit my lip.

We sat in awkward silence until I began thinking about the reason for his call. "Hey, Garth, weren't you calling for Bobby?"

"You're right!" he bellowed into the receiver again, blowing out my eardrum. "I completely forgot! I've got a case I can't quite figure out and wanted to run by him. I've got a whole bunch of missing people, but no bodies've turned up yet. And the weird thing is they've all had loved ones who died pretty recently."

"Huh, that is weird," I agreed, raking my brain. I'd read enough books about monsters, surely, I could think of something. Vampires, werewolves, or ghouls maybe? On second thought, I'll leave this to the expert. "Nothing really comes to mind unless you had a body to go off. But I'll be sure to let Bobby know and give you a call back."

"Thanks, Avery; you're the best." He made a kissing noise as we said goodbye. I settled the phone back in its holder, leaning back against the wall for support. He was a good guy and beyond adorable, but I didn't enjoy the few butterflies stirring in my belly.

Heavy bootsteps thudded up the basement stairs, shaking the kitchen floor beneath my feet. Bobby came through the doorframe covered in more grease than when I had left him which I hadn't thought was possible. He hmphed at me, frown deepening. "You been gone nearly an hour. Had to check and make sure the phone hadn't swallowed ya whole." I dropped my head, not meaning to have disappeared for so long. "Who was it?" he asked, grabbing a nearby towel to wipe his face.

"Just Garth calling about a case. Missing people, no bodies, and dead relatives," I told him, shrugging.

He snorted to himself as he washed his hands, nodding along. "Leave it to Garth to get the hardest case. I'll give 'im a call later."

"That's what I told him. You stopping for lunch?" I asked as Bobby sat himself down at the table. It wasn't like him to take a break until he was finished with that portion of a job.

"I'm done with the frame. I'll need Rufus to find me a few things before I can finish it though." I was only partially listening to him as I tried to plan what I would do with my now free afternoon. I had a book that wasn't on lore I had been meaning to read and a half-finished doodle in my journal. It was also a beautiful day out and perfect for playing with Rumsfeld. But Bobby was quick to stop my daydreaming. "Since you skipped out on work today, I think you're due for some training," he told me. His eyebrow was quirked above a slim smirk as my face dropped. I groaned my complaint, but the punishment didn't budge. So, instead, I spent my afternoon kickboxing the rugged bag in the outside workshop.


	11. Home Sweet Home Chapter 3

My morning shower had gone to complete waste by the time Bobby came to get me for dinner. Even the wrappings around my hands were soaked with sweat when I finally pried them off. I retreated to my room after eating, not wanting to get caught up in the research for Garth's case. I was more than content to finish logging entries in my journal instead.

I sat at my desk with the book open before me, jotting down the last few case details I could remember. Bobby had given it to me as a Christmas gift while gruffly saying that every hunter needed one. It was bound in brown leather with a crisscross pattern stamped around the borders. The design was the closest thing to feminine he could imagine, but the thought was what made me treasure it. The first entry detailed how I'd met the Winchesters and every case I worked thereafter. I smiled fondly, thinking back on the whirlwind my life had taken in the past year, as I penned a sketch of a werewolf bitch on an empty page.

I had just started filling in the details around her muzzle when my phone began to rattle on the desk next to me. Instinctively, I grabbed it without checking to see who was calling. I assumed it was Sam, who I hadn't spoken to in a few days.

"This is Avery," I answered, a playful lilt in my voice as I waited for Sam's deep response.

The voice I heard couldn't have been more startling or unsettling. "Oh, Miss Avery- wasn't rightly expecting to hear your voice, considering all the trouble I've had findin' you." I knew the owner of that rasping voice as soon as my name passed his lips; and it wasn't Sam Winchester.

"Sheriff?" I breathed in shock. Memories of the night I lost my family came flooding back, stealing my breath. I hadn't spoken to the man since that night and had vanished without a trace on purpose. I didn't want a reason to be reminded of my past and the sleepy little town shrouded in death. The smell of smoke was already filling my nostrils as I dropped the pen in my hand. It rattled across the desk and plummeted to the floor, but I hardly noticed.

"We've gotta lot to discuss…" he said slowly, beginning to divulge a year's worth of information.

I didn't recall hanging up on the sheriff, or even finishing the conversation. But I found myself with my back against the door, knees pulled to my chest. One hand was threaded into my hair, pushing it off my forehead, while the other clutched feverishly at my chest. It felt like an elephant was crushing my lungs, preventing me from catching my breath. Each passing second made my heart beat faster. I was ready to pass out, but at the same time I was hyperaware of everything going on around me.

What is happening to me, I wondered as a sob shook through my trembling body. My fingers instinctively reached for the cellphone lying next to me before I knew why. The sweat clinging to my palms nearly caused it to slide out of my hand as I shakily dialed the number.

"Come on; pick up," I sniffled into the phone, chewing on my thumbnail as I waited for an eternity.

"Avery?" Sam's voice was laced with worry, like it always was when I called him out of the blue. The comfort in his tone was enough to push me over the edge and I started crying uncontrollably. "Whoa, hey, what's wrong?" he asked, his level of worry rising.

My jaw worked wordlessly for a few seconds before I found my voice. "I- I- I can- can't- br-breathe," I managed to choke out between sobs, a hand still clutched to my deflated chest.

I thought he might flip out and go into protective mode or even ask what's wrong again, but he didn't. "Just focus on my voice," he said instead, lowering it to a soothing pitch. I tried to do as he said, but each quake that went through my body broke my concentration. "Deep breathes. That's it, you're doing great," he reassured me. It took a few minutes before I drew a full breath and a couple more before I could talk normally.

"I'm sorry," I told him quietly, embarrassed to have worried him. I sniffed as I wiped the tears off my face and undid the mess my hair was in.

"It was just a panic attack. Nothing to apologize for." I could imagine the soft smile on his boyish face and hear it through the phone.

Wait; what did he call it? "A panic attack?" I repeated after him. "Sam, I've never had one before in my life." Surely, he was mistaken. That kind of thing didn't happen to me.

He let out the faintest chuckle at my response. "Yeah, I know. Wanna talk about it?" My throat threatened to constrict again at just the suggestion. "You'll feel better; I promise," he said reassuringly, as if being able to read my mind through the phone.

I drew the deepest breath, letting my head fall back against the door as I did so. "Well, I got a call from the sheriff earlier." Sam let out a mildly interested oh but otherwise kept quiet. "He was calling to let me know my parent's will has officially been sorted through. All their assets were liquidated, or something like that, and all outstanding debts paid. So, now I have a pretty hefty sum in my bank account and three hundred acres to my name." I sighed deeply, thinking of all the responsibility that had just become mine. Sam sounded ready to ask what the real problem was before I continued. "I now have to decide what I want done with the land that's been in my family for generations."

My voice quivered as I finished. Sam was quick to my rescue though. "That's a really big decision," he agreed, "and it was all just kinda sprung on you. What're you thinking?" His posed question was meant to churn my thoughts and keep me thinking out loud. It was much harder to shut myself down if I had someone to bounce ideas off.

"I could sell the land and not worry about it anymore; truly cut ties there. Or I could keep it and… do what with it?" It wasn't like I was going home anytime soon. There wasn't even a home to go back to.

"You don't sound like either of those options are very appealing," he said, noting the tone in my voice. There was silence on the line as we both pondered a possible third option. Sam was the first to speak up. "What if you rebuilt?"

"Why?" I squeaked, my eyes going wide.

This time he let out a full chuckle that made me want to laugh along with him. "For argument's sake, I'm gonna assume you're pretty set at the moment." I could only agree with him. "And if I know you as well as I think I do, then I know you're not ready to get rid of it. Rebuild it from the ground up."

It might take most of my inheritance to do what he was suggesting. He was right about the way I felt too. But all that land would just go to waste. Unless… "Sam, what if I rented out the land?"

He didn't have the foggiest how farming worked; but after I explained the general idea, he was on board. I'd divide the land into increments of twenty-five or fifty acres. People could rent the land by season, grow their own crops on it. That way the land was still being used and I managed to make a little something extra to store up. The house I'd have built identical to the first and pay someone to maintain it. Sam helped me crunch the numbers and it looked like it would work.

"Winchester, you're an absolute genius," I told him, wishing I could hug him through the phone. He started to respond, but I heard a door slam and someone talking faintly in the background. Whoever it was, Sam answered them; I couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

"Sorry about that," Sam's voice seemed to bellow after the previous silence, "Dean just walked in." My face immediately pickled into a grimace at the mention of the older Winchester. "You wanna talk to him?" his brother asked innocently.

I tried hard to keep the venom out of my voice as I spoke but wasn't sure I succeeded. "Is your good-for-nothing brother still a dumbass who sold his soul in a demon deal?" I clipped out.

Sam started to speak then burst into laughter after Dean spoke in the background. "She asked if you're still a dumbass," he cackled, his voice projected away from me. He laughed harder when his brother sounded like he was mocking me. "He says yes," Sam chocked out, laughter making it hard for him to speak.

"He did not," I said, rolling my eyes. Good to know those two were still thick as thieves.

"He just misses you," he tried to tell me after his laughter subsided.

I wasn't sure I believed him, but I knew how much my heart ached after not speaking for nearly two months. But a demon deal was something I couldn't forgive. We'd all been there; seen Sam lay lifeless on that miserable bed in Cold Oak. And been just as relieved when he walked out as if he'd only been napping. But selling his soul hadn't been worth it. I had regained one Winchester just to lose the other.

"If you say so," I said quietly, willing to appease him. I stifled a yawn that snuck up on me, stretching from my spot on the floor. "Getting kinda late, Winchester," I slurred, a wave of drowsiness hitting me out of nowhere.

"Go to bed, munchkin," he said, chortling softly as he did. "Talk to you in a few days," he promised.

I told him to stay safe as I pushed off the floor, collapsing into the comfort of my bed.

"Hand me those pliers," Bobby barked, his voice muffled by the old car he was currently under. I lazily stuck a bookmark into my book, reaching into the toolbox at my feet for the first set of pliers I could see. "Not those, ya idjit; the big blue ones," I heard him say. I grumbled under my breath, knowing full well there was no way he knew which pair I had first grabbed. He rolled out far enough for his hand to clear the side of the car, palm extended. I slapped the tool into his open hand, seating myself once again on my stool and reopening my book.

I knew jack-squat about cars and tools, but I was the only person available to be Bobby's assistant when he needed to crawl underneath an engine. The dreary rain outside had kept us locked inside the house since my conversation with Sam a few days ago and we were both going a little stir crazy. The covered garage beside the house was our only relief. I wasn't sure if anything was particularly wrong with this car, but we'd been out here long enough that my butt was falling asleep from sitting.

Just as I was getting reabsorbed in my book, I heard the old man grouse and give a faint cough, a telltale sign that he was working on the right words to say something. "You need something?" I asked softly, not bothering to look up from my page.

"No," he replied sharply, silence following the single word. A moment passed before he spoke again. "Was talkin' to Rufus this morning. Thinks he's got a case out in Iowa; not far from here." My ears perked at the word 'case', though I wasn't sure why he was discussing it with me. Probably wanted me to go dig around the library in town for something. He continued when I didn't reply. "Few people dead or missing; he thinks its just a vampire strollin' through. We thought it'd be a perfect first case for ya."

"For me?" I squeaked, nearly tipping off my stool and dropping my book from shock.

Bobby pushed himself out from underneath the car to look at me as he spoke. "I told ya this wasn't no finishing school. Best for you to get out there and earn your keep. Do what you were trained to do; hunt down evil sons of bitches."

I couldn't keep the smile off my face as I quipped back, "What you trained me to do." He let out a disgusted noise as he rolled back under the car, but I knew what it really meant. He wouldn't be sending me out unless he truly believed I was ready. That fact helped propel my feet as I raced to pack my bags.

Bobby helped pack my car, which added an hour to my departure time after all the weapons he insisted I take. It was well past dark by the time I reached the city limits of Nowhere, Iowa, and found the morgue closed until morning. I was too wired to simply sit in my motel room and wait. So, I found myself in a corner booth at a decent dive bar, beer in hand, combing through the case files I had managed to gather.

The crime scene photos were gruesome but showed a clear view of multiple bite wounds on each victim. Great lengths had been taken to hide vehicles and evidence of the abductions. It seemed like too much a hassle for just one vampire to worry about. I might be dealing with a small coven, just three or four members. Something I could still handle on my own without calling in backup.

I reached for my beer, making a sour face when I saw it was completely empty. I was debating whether to order another when the waitress placed a pink cocktail in a martini glass on the table in front of me. The sudden presence startled me slightly. I tried to babble out that I hadn't ordered the drink, but she cut me off with a smile. "Lucky," she said with a wink as a handsome man came up behind her and slid into the booth across from me.

His broad features and tan skin suggested Native American lineage, and his raven hair was pulled into a loose bun on the back of his head. The corners of his mouth hinted at a smile while his eyes shone with confidence. His clothes were decent enough, similar to my pantsuit, though much nicer than anyone else in the establishment. "I hope you don't mind," he purred in a deep, silky voice, "but I saw that your drink was empty, and you seemed too engrossed to notice." I slammed my files shut as he gestured to them, trying to pull myself from his alluring gaze. He responded with a toothy smile, extending his hand over the table. "I'm Gavin," he said.

"And I'm a whiskey drinker," I replied curtly, eying his hand as if it were a snake. "But I'm sure most lonely girls you hit on eat that line up. Or am I wrong?" I quirked my eyebrow at him, wondering what he might do. Become outraged that I didn't fall for his ploy, or leave me alone as a lost cause?

His veil of confidence immediately collapsed, his eyes growing wide. He recovered quickly, a more natural smile playing at his features as he withdrew his hand. He even seemed a little bashful, which I tried not to find adorable. "It's pretty bad, isn't it?" he said with a self-depreciating laugh, looking up at me through long lashes.

I caught myself almost telling him that it wasn't but stopped myself. "I can just spot a bad pick-up line a mile away is all," I said instead with a soft smile. Surely it conveyed I still had my reservations about interacting with him.

"Brother?" he questioned, playfully tilting his head left of center. Why was it so cute when boys did that?

"Best friend actually," I corrected, fighting the blood rushing to my cheeks. But then again, putting a label on what Dean and I were to each other was easier said than done.

He snorted, shaking his head as he leaned back in his seat. "Idiot."

"Excuse me?" I started, once again becoming cautious.

He made intentional eye contact with me as he spoke. "Any guy dumb enough to keep you at arm's length is an idiot." Damn, now that was a good line, I thought to myself as a rueful smile swept my face. His grin grew when he realized that I'd swallowed the bait, hook, line, and sinker.

Gavin leaned across the table, closing some of the distance between us. "You know, I didn't catch your name."

I was drowning in his dark eyes before he even finished speaking. I grabbed the martini glass on the table and brought it to my lips. "Buy me a real drink and I'll tell you," I told him in a sultry voice, my eyes challenging him. He bit his tongue as he immediately began searching for a waitress. I downed the pink vodka, hoping it would stop the shaking that was starting in my hands.


	12. Home Sweet Home Chapter 4

Gavin was surprisingly easy to talk to when he wasn't laying it on thick and clearly kept trying to get me drunk. I had a much higher tolerance than he did; but I went along with it, no longer sensing any danger.

An hour before last call, I sat there giggling at an awful joke he had made when the room started to tilt. A wave of nausea nearly knocked me to my knees as I struggled to get out of the booth. Vomiting on a first date never left a good impression. There was a backdoor around here somewhere that should let out behind the bar, but it was hard to distinguish the floor from the ceiling anymore. The noises in the room sounded distorted as they hit my ears, like the world was grinding to a halt. I somehow managed to find a door and stumbled blindly into the alleyway. As I dry heaved against the side of the building, it finally hit me.

This wasn't alcohol poisoning.

"Throw it up; right now," I commanded myself in a hoarse voice to no avail. I felt the drug finally tearing at my consciousness as Gavin burst through the same door I had just a moment before. He stood and watched as I finally collapsed on the pavement.

"Come on, lovely," a voice called through the haze, "open up those eyes of yours." A hand attached to the voice smacked me roughly on the cheek several times in impatience. The force sent my brain rattling but had the desired effect as my eyelids heavily dragged upward. I lazily rolled my head around, trying to fight the remaining nausea and headache the drug had left behind. "Ata girl," Gavin smirked, as my double vision solidified into his crouched form.

"The hell did you give me?" I rasped, angry and embarrassed at being another damsel. Monsters would be so much easier to fight if they didn't look like normal, albeit handsome, people. I seemed to be unharmed even if I was tied to a metal chair that was probably crawling with Tetanus.

He moved away from me as he talked, waltzing to the center of the small room. Wood, metal, and power tools covered every inch of the walls, suggesting it was a workshop of some kind. I couldn't hope for anyone to find us until the morning; I had to hang on at least that long. "Oh, me? Nothing," he shrugged confidently. "I can't say the same for her." He looked back over his shoulder, holding his hand out to the waitress from the bar.

I rolled my eyes so hard I could have seen my skull. Of course, he had an accomplice and of course they were a couple. She didn't seem overly thrilled with her mate though, smacking his hand away with a scowl.

"You idiot," she growled, drilling daggers at him. "I told you we had to lay low or the feds were going to get involved." I didn't want to be their couple's therapist, but this distraction would give me valuable time to search for a way out.

"That's why I chose her," he said proudly, making to sidle up next to her. "She's an FBI agent." I shifted in the chair quietly, seeking any weaknesses in the rust-riddled thing. My knife was still tucked tightly against my right hip, hidden from view.

The loud smack of her hand connecting with his face made me jump. "Gavin, you brainless sack of shit!" she screamed at him like one would berate a child. He looked the part as he held his cheek, helplessly taking her angry rampage. "What do you think the FBI is going to do with a missing agent, huh? They'll flood this town with others; not just forget about her. You've signed our death warrants."

The rope binding my wrists had caught on something when I jumped, and I was hopelessly searching for it. Just when I thought I might have only imagined it, the strands caught again. My fingers felt a small divot in the back of the chair where a piece had torn away, leaving the edge jagged. _Please work_ , I prayed as I quietly began sawing.

"You only ever think with your stomach and what's between your legs." That was her last comment before sneering and storming away.

Gavin made an attempt to go after her. "My love, where are you going?" he pleaded.

Her sharp answer stopped him. "To pack; and to see what part of our lives here I can salvage." She turned on her heel, saying as she left, "Don't even think about draining her either."

"Trouble in paradise?" I smirked as he leveled his eyes at me. "Are you not fulfilling her in the bedroom?" I mocked concern. That's right; I need you upset.

He hissed angrily before moving towards me. "She said I couldn't drain you, but a bite should shut you up." His face was the vision of calm as his mouth filled with needle teeth and his eyes turned yellow with venomous pupils. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, painfully jerking my head to the side. I grimaced as his sickly-sweet breath washed over me. With him baring down on my neck, I waited one agonizing second before moving into action.

I drove my fist into the side of his head so hard I thought I shattered every bone in my arm. It did the job, making him stagger and drop to a knee. I whirled out of the chair, putting distance between us as I easily drew my concealed knife. I danced on the balls of my feet, arms raised, ready to fight if the punch didn't knock him out.

Unfortunately for me, it didn't. He pushed off the ground, twice as mad, blindly running towards me. Hoping he wouldn't expect me to be on the offensive, I bore down to throw him off balance. His movements were fast, faster than I was used to after months of training with Bobby. But after a few slashes with my blade, I managed to nick his right bicep.

He howled in pain which confirmed my suspicion that silver could stop whatever kind of monster he was. My confident grin must have been the wrong move because it caused him to charge. I watched as he dropped his shoulder, intent on taking me to the ground. Muscle memory pulled my knife across my chest, ready to receive him, before my mind could think to jump out of the way.

The force took us both to the floor, but in the descent, I found my opening. Gravity forced my knife into his chest, up to the hilt. He dropped his gaze to where my hand was still desperately clasped around my weapon. He weakly looked at me again, barring all his teeth with the intent to bite.

"Just die already," I gritted out, turning the blade already buried in his heart. The thick sound of the metal ripping through muscle made me want to vomit, but I watched his face until the life drained from it. When he began to turn grey and shrivel, I hurriedly scrambled out from underneath him.

On my hands and knees, I took a deep breath, not realizing I had been holding it in. I was in the middle of standing up when a voice screamed Gavin's name. My head snapped to where his mate was standing, shock on her face.

"You killed him?" she mumbled, cocking her head at me. I grimaced, not sure how to respond. To my surprise, relief replaced shock as she cackled, "Better you than me. I've been trying to drop his sorry ass for months. Always hitting on other women and what not."

I rocked on my feet, nervous at this sudden turn of events. "Yeah, we've both got crappy taste in guys. Can I go now?" I asked, taking a half step towards the door. Maybe she'd be so happy that I freed her from an unsatisfying relationship that she wouldn't try to kill me.

"You understand why I can't let you leave alive," she hissed pleasantly, matching my step. Her fangs descended with glowing yellow eyes.

Well, it was a long shot to begin with. "So much for girl power," I grumbled, watching for her move. My knife was still buried in her lover and she stood between me and the door. A move towards either could spell the end for me. I was going to have to hope for an opportunity.

She was smarter than Gavin, assessing me before she attacked. She was more lethal too, throwing me around the room whenever I managed to land a hit. I was getting my ass thoroughly handed to me. She effortlessly pinned me to a wall; I squirmed, fighting her superhuman strength as she went for my neck. Every second I lost an inch of space between us, despite my desperate attempts.

I gave a frustrated scream, determined to put the rest of my strength into throwing her off, but a loud noise stole our attention. As she turned to investigate, I cracked my forehead into her nose. White hot pain exploded across my skull as someone yelled, "Catch!" I extended my hand in the direction of the voice, the grip of a knife connecting with my palm.

I fought the stars swarming my vision to see Gavin's mate clutching a bloody nose. She jumped at me once more and I caught her in the chest with the knife. I clenched my teeth as I turned it within her chest, letting go as she stumbled backwards. Her body mummified, just like her lover, and I knew it was over.

"No one ever wins in a head butt, short stuff," someone called to me. My immediate reaction was one of immense happiness and a beaming smile. It quickly soured into a scowl. Dean Winchester stood staring at me, a cocky grin plastered across his playboy-quality face.

"What are you doing here?" I snarled, turning my back to him as I dislodged the knife from the girl's chest. No doubt Bobby sent him when I didn't check in every hour, but I wanted to hear what he had to say. We hadn't spoken in months and communication was a two-way street.

He guffawed at me before speaking. "What a welcome. 'Haven't seen you in a while, Dean. How's it going, Dean? I've really missed you, Dean. Thanks for saving me, Dean.'" He babbled on, making dramatic hand gestures like this was a fairytale and he'd saved me from a dragon. He was touched in the head if he thought I'd be excited to see him. Just one look, a 'short stuff', and I'd leap into his arms like before.

I shot him an unimpressed glare as I stepped towards Gavin's corpse. "I had it," I told him curtly, jutting my chin at him as I did so.

"Yeah, I got that impression when I saw how close she was to ripping your throat out," he shot back, his face darkening to match mine.

I reached for the handle of my knife to find it wasn't going to come out easy. "You can take your opinion," I grabbed with both hands, planted a foot on the body, and pulled, "and go- to- hell!" The blade freed itself on the last word, spinning me in Dean's direction as I yelled.

All the rage I had, dissipated when his face fell, and I immediately clapped a hand over my mouth. The air seemed to chill, thickening with oppression to the point where it was hard to swallow. I wanted to apologize, steal the words back before my emotions had gotten the better of me. He shattered the silence first. "Give me a few months and you'll get your wish," he whispered into the still air, voice cracking ever so slightly.

My heart broke inside my chest as he turned to leave. I hadn't meant it like that, but he must have known that. It was too raw a wound in our relationship to jest about. "Why'd you do it?" I shouted after him, not willing to let him off the hook so easy. In my mind, he had a good many things to answer for.

He faced me, absolute clarity in his green eyes. "For Sammy," he said firmly. "He needed me." He spoke like those few words were all the explanation I needed. And maybe they were, for him.

Two months of emotion welled inside me, breaking the wall I was trying to keep intact. "What about me, damnit?" I spat out, feeling my face contort in pain. "What about me?" I repeated louder when he seemed taken aback by the question. The thought that it hadn't occurred to him before loosed the dam of tears I was barely holding back. "I need you too!" I shouted incoherently as a sob rocked my voice. Why couldn't I keep my cool around you, Winchester? I was levelheaded about everything until you were involved and got under my skin.

I feared I would have hit my knees after such an exhausting night, but he caught me in his arms before I had the chance. Just like that night in the cornfield, he held me fiercely against his chest. He whispered soothingly in my ear and stroked my hair. This was the Dean Winchester I knew so well, I thought as his scent wafted into my nose. Stale beer and secondhand cigarette smoke from sleezy motel rooms had never been so comforting. I wanted to stay wrapped in his leather jacket for hours, realizing I had missed his company.

"You're-" I had to clear the thickness from my voice before continuing. "You're all I have, you know," I mumbled meekly, dropping my head lower. The two brothers were my family now and I needed both equally.

A large hand gently grabbed my chin and used it to guide my gaze upwards. "I'm not going anywhere," Dean promised solemnly. They were nothing more than hollow words between us; debts didn't go unpaid. But I found they soothed my heart all the same and I was able to give him a small smile. He returned it, ruffling my hair affectionately as he released me.

We walked out of the workshop abreast, not being able to swap stories from our time apart fast enough. Bobby and Sam were waiting for us outside, like they'd expected us to come out best friends again. They were lucky I hadn't killed him, taking a gamble like that. I shouted Sam's name upon seeing him, racing and leaping into his arms. He caught me midair, swinging us around in a small circle while laughing. God, I'd missed them both.

Bobby's typical scowl was fixed in place, but I imagined a touch of relief at seeing me unharmed. As Sam set me down, I could see the old man getting ready to give me an earful. "Lecture me later, okay?" I pleaded over his shoulder. I was too overjoyed to listen to a single word he'd say right now.

He grumbled to show his displeasure at my sass and talked anyways. "So, what? You just let 'em lead ya to this place like a lamb to slaughter?"

"I was drugged, I'll have you know," I said, making a face at him.

"Poisoned, more likely," Dean spoke up behind me.

I raised an eyebrow as we all turned to look at him, reclining on the Impala's front bumper. "And how'd you know?" I asked, skeptical.

He shrugged lightly, crossing his arms as he did so. "Looked like vetala to me. But it's hard to tell when they're all shriveled up like that." He leaned over to get confirmation from Bobby, who nodded. "Whatever it was, she kicked its ass." Dean dipped his chin at me, his own subtle sign of approval. Sam's broad smile was easier to read.

Bobby appraised me shrewdly before loudly complaining that he wanted to go home. That was the closest I was going to get to praise, but I was happy to hear it. I went to open the passenger door of Bobby's beat up truck and received odd stares from all three guys.

"Yes?" I questioned, returning the stare over my shoulder. Did I have blood splattered all over my face or something?

"Aren't you coming with us?" Sam asked, gesturing to the Impala.

"Yeah, you're coming back out on the road with us, short stuff," Dean chimed in as if he were stating the obvious.

I shot Bobby a confused look, to which he jerked his chin at the boys. "Go on; git. I don't wantcha no more." I burst into a wide smile, wanting to hug his neck. It wouldn't earn me anything but an earful, so I didn't. I shouted a thank you, slamming the rusty door in my haste.

Bobby's insult of 'idjit' followed me as I dove into Baby's backseat. Sam chuckled as they ducked in as I practically bounced in my seat. "So, did he even let me get here before he called you two knuckleheads?" I voiced my question as the sultry engine purred to life.

"It was when you missed the first check-in." Sam was the one who answered me. "We were just on the other side of the state, but Dean here drove like his life depended on."

I giggled with the younger Winchester as I watched Dean's ears turn red. "Aw, were you worried about me, Dean?" I teased him, trying to catch his eyes in the rearview. He angrily shushed both of us, making multiple excuses for his haste. It quickly turned into a bickering war. I listened contentedly, running my hands over the worn leather seat of the Impala. I felt like I was finally home after so many long months away.


	13. Mesmerizing Nightmare Chapter 1

"I'm telling you this case is going to be cold by the time we manage to get there," I insisted to Dean from the backseat of the Impala. There were demonic signs lighting up all over California and here we were taking our time trekking through the wilds of Colorado. It was less than fifty degrees out, the early spring snows still covered the ground, and Dean was stopping at every diner he saw for burgers and pie. He had about two months left on earth and he was living his best life while Sam and I suffered silently.

"Is not," came the answer from the driver's seat.

"Is too," I leered back. "Its gonna smoke out, find a new victim, or better yet another hunter is gonna exorcise it." I received no answer back, nor would Dean meet my eyes in the rearview mirror. An exasperated sigh rattled through my nose at his ignorance. I pleaded with Sam when he flashed a quick look over his shoulder. He scrunched his face, wanting to be a pacifist, but I knew I could count on him.

He cleared his throat, measuring his words before going against his older brother. "She's right, man," he started. Dean was fast to shoot him a piercing glare. Sam cleared his throat again and continued. "We've all been stuck in this car for the last three days."

"Come on, we've been stopping tons," he said defensively.

"Yeah, for you to get another burger or pie. I can't sleep in here again or I'm gonna wake up a popsicle! I don't have all that manly ruggedness to keep me warm at night." And I wasn't exaggerating. These lonely backroad highways had few diners and even fewer motels spaced between them. We had passed up motels the last two nights because Dean was sure we could get a few more hours of driving in. I'd been forced to huddle in the backseat, my jacket the only thing to warm me when the night temperatures dropped below freezing.

"Manly ruggedness?" Dean teased, finally catching my eye with a quirked eyebrow. The corners of Sam's mouth tugged upwards in a silent chuckle as I shrugged unapologetically.

"Let's at least pull into the next motel," Sam offered.

"But-" his brother started to protest.

I hollered over him, "If you say there's still hours of daylight left, I'm going to punch you." Deep laughter filled the car as I rolled my eyes at Dean in good humor. He pretended to be appalled, claiming those weren't the words about to leave his mouth. I joined in with Sam's laughter as he pouted in the front seat.

Dean did concede after we finished our play fight, finally pulling into a lodge-style motel by late afternoon. It was nicer than our normal digs with two full suites and a joint living area. Sam pushed his way through the door first, sprinting while calling dibs on the queen bed. I was too relieved to have a mattress to myself to care and Dean didn't have a reason to tell him no.

I collapsed on my full bed, sinking into the thick comforter that smelled vaguely of pine needles. Lazily rolling my head to the side, I looked at Dean as he sat down to take his worn boots off. His head down, he couldn't see me watching his fingers as he deftly undid the laces. He must have felt my gaze because he ever so slightly glanced up through thick lashes. I hurriedly adverted my eyes, glad the comforter was hiding the blush on my cheeks. The distinctive sound of his quiet chuckle filled our shared room until Sam's voice broke through.

"Hey, guys, its snowing!" he excitedly called from the living room. I pushed up on my forearms to see Dean gently jerk his chin toward his brother. Sam was indeed right, I saw, as pinpricks of white dust floated around the Impala. The dusting turned into a several inches of heavy snowfall at dusk and we were all grateful to be indoors and off the roads.

Dean was content to sit in front of the tv, mindlessly watching Dr. Sexy M.D. The younger Winchester and I had opted for snuggling on the couch with our respective books. Eventually I grew tired of even that and went to stuff my book into my bag. As I was coming back to sit beside my reading buddy, I happened to zero in on his hair. It was the longest I had seen it, easily brushing his collar and covering his ears.

I leaned on the back of the couch to whisper in his ear, "You need a haircut."

He turned towards me, a little startled at my proximity when our noses brushed. "You always say that," he said, pulling back to look me in the face.

"She's right," his brother chimed in, never looking away from the actors on the screen.

"Popular opinion today," I grinned sweetly, batting my lashes when he didn't immediately consent.

"Not too short, okay?" he finally conceded, his mouth screwing up in concern. I happily promised, scrambling to grab our nice scissors and comb.

He sat himself down, back facing the tv so I could absentmindedly watch and work. I playfully ran my fingers through his long, silken locks in an attempt to calm him before I started cutting. It had something to do with Dean traumatizing him and buzzing it all when they were kids. He still tensed up every ten minutes and I'd have to knead his neck or readjust his head to snap him out of it. Despite that, I managed to trim and straighten the edges of his hair without incidence. When I was done, he practically shot out of the chair and dove back to the safety of the couch.

I snorted comically as I walked over to Dean. "Your turn," I told him, stepping in front of the screen so he couldn't ignore me. He groaned loudly, letting me know his displeasure as I pulled on his sleeve, yet stood to get his clippers.

He sat as close to the tv as I'd let him, grumbling whenever I blocked his view. He was especially bad about grasping my hips to physically move me to the side. Despite his appearance, Dean cared more about his hair than his younger brother. It needed to be this short on his neck but not that short up top; and heaven forbid his front fringe not be cut straight and styled appropriately. Constantly having to double check my work, my hands stayed threaded through his blonde locks.

After delicately snipping another centimeter off his bangs, I did one more run through with my fingers. As I smoothed each strand into place, I noticed that his eyelids had dropped closed and he was gently leaning into the pressure. "You're missing your show," I said softly, beginning to form his typical spiked hairstyle. He gave a small uninterested noise, like he was barely conscious. "She's about to tell him that she loves him," I prodded again, a gentle smile on my features.

"Rerun," was the mumbled response I heard. I laughed quietly, removing my hands from his finished hair. One of his quickly trapped mine against his head, holding it in place against his ear. "Feels good," he whispered with an unfocused, half-lidded gaze.

"I can tell," I giggled, peering into his sleepy apple green eyes. "Time for bed, okay?" I extracted my hand from underneath his, grabbing hold of his flannel overshirt to pull him from the chair.

This time he didn't resist, leaning heavily against me as I pulled him out of the living room. I hollered a goodnight to Sam who was too engrossed in his book to know the time and grunted back at me.

A real bed did wonders for my body and I woke the next morning feeling refreshed like I hadn't in weeks. The sun was up as I gingerly walked to the window, my companions still sound asleep. The snow from last night covered the ground in a thick white blanket undisturbed by the world. It was a good thing we hadn't been caught driving in it too. Baby didn't handle ice well and she'd probably stay parked today for no reason other than to keep her safe.

I decided to brave the snow to make a food run, especially if we were going to stay another day. Beer, pie, something healthy for Sam, and food for Dean and I were all on my list as I slipped on my decorative combat boots and insulated leather jacket. We had passed a mini mart not far down the road that was within walking distance. A brisk wind swirled my hair around my face as I stepped outside, but I could feel the temperature already rising. I trudged on, my footsteps marking a path into the fresh snow behind me.

I personally abhorred ice and anything cold, but Colorado made up for it with dry, crisp air and a refreshing scenery. Tall pines jutted out of the snowbanks, their branches heavy with snowflakes and off in the distance, a mountaintop rose above the tree line, stretching for the heavens. The morning sun peeked through the clouds, casting the mountain's shadow until it reached the side of the highway. For fifteen minutes, I was engrossed in the nature around me instead of focusing on the cold seeping into my bones.

My destination was a moderate sized convenience store with two ancient gas pumps standing guard out front. Stomping off my boots, I hurried inside to begin scavenging for food in the heated building. Apparently, I was the only person with enough courage to venture outdoors, the store clerk there to keep me company. It was hard to ignore the feeling of his eyes nervously watching me, but I wasn't here to shoplift today. Quickly scanning the aisles, I grabbed salad, premade hot dogs, some apples, a six pack of beer, and the only pie I could find which happened to be pumpkin. I knew I'd never hear the end of it, but I'd get more flak from Dean if I didn't bring pie at all.

My arms burdened with the goods, I laid them out on the counter before the employee. He was a simple faced man, around my age, thin, with an intricate tribal tattoo winding across his knuckles. I commented on it which led to awkward small talk as he scanned the items. I dug in my pocket for the appropriate amount of cash, handing it to him when he said the total. Our fingertips accidentally brushed in the exchange, a small volt of static electricity passing through my arm.

Apologizing profusely, I thanked him as I turned to walk out the door. Not watching where I was going, a burly mountain man clipped my shoulder as he passed by me. The force spun me to the side slightly, nearly knocking my fresh bagged groceries from my arms. He gave no apology, not even noticing the insult, and continued to the beer freezer. I chose to shrug it off, not wanting to stay in the cold weather longer than I needed to.

I burrowed deeper into my jacket, hands stuffed into the lined pockets as I continued down the road again. The rising sun glinted off the white horizon, sparkling like diamonds across the mountainous landscape. I squinted against the sight to no avail; my vision encased by blinding white light. So bright, it seemed like I was being surrounded by the cold, white nothingness.


	14. Mesmerizing Nightmare Chapter 2

I groaned heavily, rolling onto my stomach, searching for anything in the darkness. Bleary eyes slowly focused on a bedside clock that told me it was the wee hours of the morning. What a vivid dream, I thought as I turned once more, hoping to sleep a few more hours. I snuggled into the thick comforter to fight off the cold, sighing deeply until my fingers brushed bare flesh.

My body froze in fear at the presence of the sleeping person next to me. I quietly scrambled to the edge of the bed, reaching for my weapon; but the quilt had other ideas. My tossing had tangled it around my legs and it now acted as a deadweight. I let out a screech as it dragged me to the floor in a mess of limbs and fabric. The more I struggled to free myself, the more it tried to suffocate me. My element of surprise gone, the goal was to escape in time for an effective counterattack.

"What in the world have you done?" an amused voice asked from above, heavy footsteps marking their progress across the floor. Just when I thought I found an opening to free myself, the voice ripped away the blanket.

I raised my arms in self-defense but stopped short at the familiar face gazing down at me. "Dean?" I muttered in disbelief.

The tension released from my body at the sight, but I couldn't convince myself to drop my guard. Of course, it was Dean; but somehow, he seemed different. His eyes were still the color of emeralds, hair dirty blonde albeit sleep-tossed, and bare chest just as muscular. Maybe that's where the subtle difference lay. Scars no longer covered his body from hunts and spells, nor was his anti-possession tattoo inked across his chest. Something I couldn't place my finger on was deeply wrong.

He grinned gently, hand extended to me. "You were expecting someone else?" His tone was teasing, but the joke was lost on me.

I eyed him suspiciously, too confused to trust him. "I was expecting no one! Why were we in bed together?" I demanded an answer as I pushed myself to my feet. If he had tried any funny busy while we were drunk, I was going to rip his throat out. And if he had, where had Sam been to stop us?

Dean titled his head, now as confused as me. "Well, I tend to get an earful when I fall asleep on the couch."

I threw my hands in the air, about to ask him what the hell that had to do with anything. He raised his to grab my wrists before I could flail and my eyes zeroed in on a silver, metal band wrapped around his left ring finger. "Wh- what is that?" I stuttered instead, pulling his calloused hand toward me for a better look. It wasn't Mary's ring that typically resided on his right hand. This ring was too new with far less scratches, a faint brushed texture encircling it.

"My wedding band?" His words buzzed in my ears to the point I was sure I had misheard him. Dean wasn't married; hell would freeze over before he could make that kind of commitment. Even as I tried to convince myself, I felt an unbearably heavy weight on my own finger. My head seemed to turn in slow motion as I internally screamed at myself not to look.

I dropped his hand to stare at the silver diamond ring and matching band constricting my finger. My knees gave out beneath me and I crumpled to the bed, Dean hovering protectively to catch me. "Married? You- you're- I- me- We're married?" Panicky words tumbled out my mouth as I hyperventilated. What kind of Friends level shit was this, I thought, tearing my hands through my hair.

"For about three years now," he answered slowly as if I shouldn't need to ask. I doubled over to stick my head between my legs, not enjoying how the walls of the room seemed to close in as my brain tried comprehending what was happening. Dean, however, took the opportunity to methodically run his hands over my scalp as he sank onto the bed beside me.

"What are you doing?" I snapped in an exasperated tone, shoving his hands off. There were larger things at stake than massaging my head.

"Making sure you didn't smack your head when you fell off the bed," he said, completely serious as he met my eye.

"I didn't hit my head!" I shouted harshly, slapping his persistent hands once more.

He made a low growl in his throat when I did but didn't yell back as I expected. "Then why are you acting so strange?" he questioned, trying to prove his point.

How was I supposed to answer that? I was beyond confused, had no clue where I was, or if this was even the real Dean. And he just expected me to pour my soul out to him? "I'm not acting strange." I forced the false words through tight lips.

He appraised me carefully, head titled to the side as he watched me. It was a gaze I recognized well; one I had been on the receiving end of many times. It nearly tricked me into believing it was my Dean sitting in front of me. I held his gaze firmly, nonetheless, determined not to give anything away.

After a moment, he simply shrugged, letting it roll off his back. "If you say so, baby. I'll be here when you're ready to talk." He obviously didn't believe me, but I couldn't dwell on it long. He pressed a quick kiss to my forehead which sent me reeling. As he stood, he said, "Well, I'm gonna hop in the shower. And you're welcome to join me."

I made the mistake of looking up and caught him shooting me a sexy wink over his shoulder. "It's a bit early for a shower, don't you think?" I barely managed to squeak out, admiring the rigid planes of his bare back as he trekked to the in-suite bathroom.

"Some of us actually have to work today," he sang back in a teasing voice. I preoccupied myself with the décor of the bedroom when he started to relieve himself of his pants and boxers. It was quant with a distinct farmhouse flair that seemed like something I would pick for my own home. Though it only added to my delirium and the feeling that I had been in this room before.

"Why don't I have to go in, again?" I asked, curiosity beginning to get the better of me.

Dean's voice called out to me over the sound of the shower. "You never work on Sundays, baby. Not unless someone has a foal ready to drop or something like that."

"O- oh, right," I called back, more confused than I was before. Maybe my answers lay elsewhere, other than the room I was in. I thought better of stepping outside when I noticed I was wearing nothing but underwear and an oversized Metallica t-shirt that clearly didn't belong to me.

After scavenging for jeans, a bra, and t-shirt, I tentatively turned the doorknob to the outside world. The sight that met me was the absolute last thing I expected. Nostalgia threatened to bring me to my knees, and I had to catch myself on the doorframe, hand covering my mouth.

I was home.

The room behind me was my parent's bedroom, on the opposite side of the stair well from three identical doors that had housed my brothers and me. From the top of the stairs, I could just see the worn wood flooring leading into the living room. I couldn't convince myself to take another step, afraid the sight would disappear around me into a cloud of ash.

Instead, I leaned my forehead against the doorframe, closing my eyes as I breathed in deeply. It was the sweet smell of my childhood home, a mixture of old oak, soil, and leather. It spoke of the life well lived here and the many generations there had been to work the land we were given. My emotions bubbled out in a low moan as I dared to run my hand along the adjacent wall. My fingertips found all the rough imperfections in the old paint, tracing them until I was stopped by a sharp edge.

I peeked at where my hand had stopped, finding a picture frame that I didn't recognize. Curiosity overcame my fear as I shuffled forward. Nestled on the wall was a picture of Dean and I, dressed in purple Kansas State colors, standing outside a football stadium. I gently pulled it from the nail suspending it, just to make sure I was seeing things right. There was no mistaking who the two people were in the photo or the pure expression of joy on our faces. He was holding me tightly, hand at my waist, as I leaned against his chest. We looked so happy; and in love.

I quickly replaced it, trying not to dwell on that last thought. Dozens of other photos caught my attention before I had the common sense to turn away. Littered around the house was our life story, replacing old family photos and filling the missing gaps in my mind. First dates, family events, engagements, graduations, weddings, and everything in between covered the walls.

I walked the house twice over, finally collapsing on the couch to collect my thoughts. I had a firmer grasp on who I was here, and who Dean was to me; but there was so much more the pictures couldn't tell me. The walls said I was a new veterinarian who had met the love of my life in college, married him shortly afterwards, and moved home to start our careers. It was a wonderful life, better than even I could imagine; but was it real? That one small thought continued to nag in the back of my mind.

"Whatcha doing down here?" Dean asked casually as he walked by. I jumped, making a startled noise as his voice brought me back to reality. His small chuckle lingered as he disappeared into the kitchen.

"Just thinking," I said as I moved off the couch to follow him. The kitchen was mostly the same as I remembered, though we had added new paint and cabinets. Dean had his back to me, dressed in old jeans with oil stains, a dark t-shirt, and plaid overshirt. Good to see some things never change.

"About?" he questioned, pouring himself a thermos of coffee before turning to face me. I almost answered, instantly pursing my lips when I realized my mistake. My instincts were still telling me to be cautious, flashing yellow hazard lights at the prying question.

I hastily lied, faking normalcy. "How much I don't wantcha to go to work." I added a small smile as I spoke, doing my best impression of a little housewife.

He pretended not to notice my clear hesitation, instead taking a sip of coffee. "You know I wish I didn't have to," he said, reaching to pull my body flush against him. His touch was gentle as he wrapped strong arms around me; but my back was tense, nerves strung tight. He placed a small kiss on top of my head, lingering slightly before moving to finish getting ready.

"How long'll you be gone?" I trailed after him as he paced the lower level of the house. Anxiety of being left alone in a strange place steadily grabbed hold of me; to the point where I was hesitant to let this Dean out of my sight.

"Just a couple of hours. I've got some important parts that are supposed to arrive today." He dug through the fridge as he spoke, giving me time to spot a magnet that had Winchester's Auto Garage scrawled in old school lettering. I couldn't help but smile like an idiot at the thought of his dream come true. My Dean would have enjoyed an apple pie life like this, happily covered in oil and grease, working with his hands. I hid my strange smile as he popped upright with a container of leftovers in his hand. "Gotta get them all installed. And if there's time, I gotta take a look at that old Ferris Bueller Ferrari the guys are all too afraid to touch."

"And what about me?" I pouted as he kneeled to lace up his pair of work boots that had been sitting by the front door.

I received an eyeroll with my answer. "You'll be fine," he assured me. When I gave him a skeptical look, he said, "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Well…" I trailed off, silently counting things on my fingers as he shrugged into his faded leather jacket. Funny, I thought John's jacket had a different lining on the inside instead of fabric; and was a lighter shade of brown.

"Shut up," he huffed, aggressively grabbing hold of me. Before I could think to push him off, his lips crashed down on mine. My eyes shot open as he deepened the kiss, my knees going weak when his hand caught the back of my head. But as soon as the kiss had started, it ended just as abruptly.

I sucked in air rapidly, pushing against his chest to give me room to breathe. Dean simply stood there, giving me a wicked smile that said he knew exactly what he had done. Colorful words coursed through my mind, but I found my mouth unwilling to cooperate.

"I'll be home in time for dinner at your parents' house." He gave me a quick wink before closing the door, leaving me rooted in place. A moment later, a familiar engine roared to life, throwing dirt as it sped down the driveway.

I wanted to snort in disgust at the taste of him clinging to my lips, but his words captured my attention. He had said dinner with my parents. If the old house still stood and Dean wasn't a hunter then maybe it was possible that my family lived as well. That joyous thought also filled me with a deep sense of dread. I needed to find the way out of this place.

Grabbing a pair of boots, I headed out the front door in the direction of the barn. I pulled the heavy doors open, the scent of horseflesh and old leather rushing over me. Three horses curiously peaked their heads out of the stalls to get a glimpse of the food-bringer. Two of them I didn't recognize, though they happily nickered as I walked by. But the third was Dan's old buckskin gelding that I had learned to ride on when I was a kid.

Saddling him quickly, I burst out the side of the barn, galloping towards the rear fields. I was determined to ride as far as I possibly could, waiting for someone or something to stop me. That would be my ticket back to the real world. I just had to make it that far.

Hours later, the horse and I were both sweating profusely. The hot sun had slowed us down to barely more than a trot and I hadn't thought to bring water with us. We had made it across multiple neighbors' property without incidence. Now I had us combing every acre of the three hundred my family owned.

Nothing seemed out of place as we trudged on. Every field, path, and dilapidated building were in their exact location. Wildlife filled the woods, chattering pleasantly against my whirlwind thoughts. I couldn't wrap my mind around what I was seeing with my eyes. The word wrong flashed everywhere I looked, yet the world was peaceful. And completely perfect. Fatigued physically and mentally, I urged the gelding back in the direction of the house. Perhaps my answer didn't lie out here.

After taking care of the horse, I dragged myself up the porch steps and upstairs for a much-needed shower. Utterly tired of the constant buzzing in my head, I attempted to drown it out with music. I hummed lightly as I rinsed the grime down the drain.

"It starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose… Wherever it goes, I always-"

"You do know what that song's about, right?" The unexpected voice immediately stopped my singing with a startled gasp.

I ripped the shower curtain open, thinking I was the only person home. A curious Dean, leaning against the bathroom counter, perked his eyebrows as the shower curtain hugged me. "You scared the hell out of me!" I fumed, pushing my wet hair off my forehead.

"Sorry," he said in an unapologetic voice, "I thought you heard me come in." He steadily made his way toward me as he talked.

"Obviously not," I quipped, pulling the curtain with me as I stepped back. He made a small noise in his throat as he stood over me, trying to use his height as an advantage. "What are you doing?" I asked, grabbing a firmer hold on the shower curtain.

His eyes trailed up the shape of my body from toe to head. "Give me a peak?" he asked in a sultry voice, his gaze lingering on my face.

"In your dreams," I told him with an irritated noise, pushing him backwards and pulling the curtain shut in one fluid motion. I turned my back to him as well, in case he didn't take no for an answer.

He must have thought better of it, instead mumbling under his breath, "Such a tease."


End file.
